


Young God

by cherrybombs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Criminal Activities, Drug Use, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, Strong course language, badass robbers, heists and such, implied/referenced/ rape/non con, it's barely mentioned - Freeform, loosely based on robbers ??, sexual content (bxb)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 21:12:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 40,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11321838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrybombs/pseuds/cherrybombs
Summary: "You and me, pretty boy. We'll be legends."Or the one in which a pretty boy plays a dangerous game with dangerous man.© 2016 satanically/cherrybombs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just moving it over from wattpad. @satanically. enjoy. (:

**To** say Louis Tomlinson was a slut was a bit of an understatement. Well okay so he wasn't a slut per se—such awful word that is—just a bit open. It wasn't his fault that he could bed anyone with a simple swish of his skirt or bat of his thick lashes—and well thick other things, but that's beside the point.

The point is that's what he was labeled as. And well he may not have liked or agreed with said label, however he still wore it—and pretty fucking well too.

He slipped into a pair of boots, black and worn, carefully avoiding the holes in his thigh highs—they were a thin stocking like material instead of the soft cotton he preferred. The thigh highs originally had no holes, but when a run started and a little hole began to spread right below his left knee he thought screw it, might as well make more. So he did.

He pulled a letterman jacket over white striped cropped sweater he wore. He couldn't remember who the jacket belonged to or when he procured it, it didn't matter anyway. He threw the strap of his small backpack over his shoulder, and abled out of his room.

The house was a stark contrast to the place that was once warm and cozy and always seemed to smell of chocolate chip cookies. Now it was all liquor stained carpets and nicotine tinged walls and the ghost of fond memories. The stairs let out loud, whining creaks as he clunked down.

He could hear the blare of a game show coming from the living room, the barrage of light and color pouring from the television seeped into hall. He peeked his head in see his mother sat on the couch, lightly swaying. She hadn't spotted him and probably wouldn't as she was barely lucid.

Louis decided that Johannah loved very few things in life. Game shows and prescription pills were on that list. Louis however was not. He gave her one more glance before sighing and making his way for the door.

"Where do you think you're going, boy?" A voice barked. It was gruff and raspy, and not in a good way. Louis turned on his heels with an eye roll. Thomas. He was one of Louis' mother's many flings, or maybe something more seeing as he had broken the record of staying with her longer than two months. Louis wouldn't count on it lasting because it never did.

"Out." He grumbled between clenched teeth. Every one of Johannah's "boyfriends" seemed to think they'd suddenly become Louis' fucking father, but as far as he was concerned he hadn't had or needed one. Shit, he barely had a mother.

"Not dressed like that, faggot." Faggot. Another label. Another ugly word. It was sort of funny—in a cynical way, of course—that someone so breathtakingly beautiful could be weighted down by such harsh ugly words.

Louis caught the man's eyes lingering about the pale flesh of his thighs. _You want this faggot though, don't you, you piece of shit?_ He wanted to say, but thought better of it.

"Oh, would you lay off, Thom?" He muttered lowly. "Jay already knows, I'm going out. I told her I was staying at Cecelia's."

Cecelia was decidedly Louis' best friend as she was the only person he'd gotten close to that he hadn't slept with.  
And yeah okay maybe he wasn't staying at her house, but why was that any of Thomas' business? He slipped out the door before the man could argue or stop him.

The night air was cold and crisp, goosebumps began to pop up on his exposed skin. He pulled the over sized jacket closed over his chest, and started the trek to the subway station.

 

≫≫≫

 

Louis liked this side of town, it was much nicer. Blocks were lined with brownstones, sleek cars, and shiny happy people. There was the occasional mom mobile, but otherwise everything was lovely. So seemingly lovely.

He walked the path to the familiar stairs he traveled up many a night. It was a little after midnight now, but Will would be awake. He always was. He stood before the thick dark double doors and knocked. Will would usually be down in his office procrastinating on grading papers, at least that's what he'd be doing any other night Louis came over.

Louis smiled as the door began to open, but it quickly faded when it wasn't Will who stood there. It was a woman instead. Her hair was a mousy dishwasher blonde pulled up messily atop her head, her deep gray eyes scanned Louis tentatively.

"Hello." She said. Her voice was wispy, yet firm somehow. "Can I help you?"

"Uh," was all Louis managed to mumble. He knew who she was, he just didn't want to let himself believe it was true.  
"Wil—Mr. Marshall? Is he in?"

"You must be one of his students." A flicker of recognition flashed on her face. "It's pretty late, love. Could I just give him a message for you?" Love. She wouldn't be calling him love if she knew he was fucking her husband.

"Kate, who is it?" Louis knew that voice all too well, and when the man appeared slotting an arm around Kate's waist Louis physically deflated.

"Louis." It came out in a rush, his dark eyes slightly panicked. "I—Kate would you excuse us for a second?" She stayed planted firm for a moment, gazing wearily at Louis then back to Will. She sighed before retreating back into the house.

Will stepped out into the night, closing the door behind him. His feet and chest were bare while a pair of dark sweatpants hung low around his hips.

"Louis I can ex—"

"She's back now, huh?" Louis laughed, a cold bitter sound. He fiddled with the hem of his skirt to avoid eye contact.

"We're still separated, Louis." Will explained. "But by law she is my wife. And you said—"

"I know what I said!" Louis stomped his foot like the petulant child he was. "We're just fucking, but she wasn't supposed to come back." He blinked furiously to keep hot angry tears from falling. Will reached out to Louis who only flinched away.

"Baby." He said solemnly and reached out again.

"Fuck you." Louis spat. He needed go, so he did. He scampered down the stairs and walked back down the block. His walk turned to into a jog that turned into a full on sprint.

Don't get him wrong, he didn't care. He didn't love Will. Fuck, he barely liked Will, but he was a constant and a pretty  
decent fuck. But you see, Louis lived by Murphy's Law. Anything that can go wrong will go wrong, and this was just one of those things.

Before he knew it he was back at the subway station. Instead of heading back underground though he pulled his phone from his bag, and dialed a number. He couldn't possibly go home now, but that was okay. After all any believer in Murphy's Law would have a plan b.

"Niall?" He breathed hopefully. "You busy?"


	2. Chapter 2

**You'd** think because Niall was older and somewhat wiser he'd have sent Louis home, but you'd be wrong because he didn't.

"What are you doing out here? Jesus Christ, Lou it's late." The deep scowl etched into the blonde's face was prominent in the pub's dim light. His eyes, a bright blue seemed to grow increasingly tired. Niall bar tended at O' Leary's Pub most nights, and attended university during the day. Most days anyway.

"I was supposed to be sleeping at a friend's, but he had unexpected company." Louis said simply, toying with the small bowl of peanuts that sat before him. He had always wondered why they offered free nuts and pretzels, but Niall later told him it was just to make the customers thirsty thus forcing them to buy beer. "Can I have a brew, then?"

"No you can not. I'm on the job, Lou. Besides you're underaged."

Louis scoffed and rolled wide blue eyes. "Barely, and that's never stopped you before. C'mon, Nialler just one." His voice sweetened, and he did his signature "this will get me whatever I want" bat of his eyelashes. Niall would usually sigh and give in, but to Louis' surprise he stood his ground.

The thing is unlike most people Louis fucked around with, Niall cared and maybe that was his fatal flaw.

"I get off in a few." He whipped the small rag that sat on his shoulder down, buffing large circles into counter top with it. "You wait around a bit, and I'll take you home." Panic set in briefly before Louis shifted forward, placing a delicate hand on top of Niall's to halt his movements.

"I can't go home." He admitted. Slithers of vulnerability managed to push its way through the minuscule cracks of his crumbling foundation. "Just let me stay tonight. I'll be out of your hair by morning."

Niall studied him carefully, Louis could practically hear him fighting his inner monologue. He sighed heavily, then nodded. "Alright, Lou. Just for tonight."

 

≫≫≫

 

Niall's apartment was simply that of a university student's, overrun with takeaway containers, textbooks, and empty red bull cans. The occasional pile of dirty laundry too, but otherwise the apartment was pretty okay. Not too big, but not postage stamp sized either.

Louis watched with amused eyes when Niall tried to carefully lead him through the mess, but only ended up tripping over a heap sneakers himself.

"This is a lot of mess for one person." Louis noted. He trotted ahead towards Niall's room which was surprisingly cleaner than the the rest of the place, Louis was thankful for that.

"It's not just my mess." Niall chuckled. "I've got a roommate now."

Louis settled on the edge of the unmade bed, it's sheets and blankets thrown haphazardly about. He slipped out of his boots, and threw his jacket aside.

"Where is he now?" His eyes followed Niall as he shrugged out of his shirt, tracing the taunt muscles in his back.

"In his room, maybe. I can never really tell, he's quiet." The blonde pulled a old tee shirt and a pair of basketball shorts from his dresser, throwing them Louis's way. "You can sleep in that." The boy hummed softly in return, peeling out of his clothes. He caught Niall turning away from him, as if they hadn't slept together a multitude of times and his bare body was now something completely foreign.

"I'm gonna take the couch, so you can have the bed, okay?" Louis frowned, pulling the old grey shirt over his body. It practically swallowed him and fell just above his knees.

"And why would you do that?" He asked, propping a leg up on the edge of the bed. He stretched forward to pull down one his thigh highs, purposely flashing a bit of his black laced panties.

"I–" Niall started, his eyes trailing from the curve of Louis' plump bottom, to the pale skin of his thick thighs. "I'm not gonna fuck you, Lou."

Louis huffed. "Well what's your roommate up to then?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Louis. Is that all you think about? I mean for fu-"

"I'm kidding!" Louis held his hands up in surrender. "Just stay, will you? No funny business. Scout's honor."

Niall scuffled from foot to foot, battling that damn inner monologue once again. But when Louis tacked on a whiny "pleaaaase" thoughts of sleeping on that couch were long forgotten.

They piled into bed, and Louis could feel Niall's apprehension radiating off of him like the heat of a blazing fire. It was almost as if he didn't trust himself in bed with the smaller boy, one wrong move and they'd be a jumbled ball of familiar naked limbs entangled in the heat of the moment. Louis snuggled back against him anyway with his closed eyes, pulling Niall's arm across his chest.

"Ni?" Louis' voice was just above a whisper now.

"Still not having sex, Lou." He said firmly.

"Not that, you knob. I just—thanks for letting me stay."

"Yeah, Lou. Of course."

The statement felt unfinished, but along with Murphy's Law Louis believed some things were just better left unsaid.

When Louis opened his eyes again the room had adopted the grayish hue of predawn light. He glanced at the unnecessarily brightly colored numbers of the digital clock that sat atop Niall's nightstand. 4:42 AM. He hadn't slept for long, and honestly hadn't expected to. He came to Niall for one reason only, and they both knew it.

He slipped out of the boy's embrace almost imperceptibly. He sighed wishing he would've kept his socks on. It'd be hard to find his dark clothes in the even darker room. After quietly fumbling a bit he found all the discarded clothing except for his sweater, the shirt Niall gave him would have to do.

He took a glance at the disheveled blonde who was still dead to the world as he stepped into his shoes. Poor thing, falling for a boy like Louis.

He debated scribbling a little note on a post it that read I would've stayed if you fucked me, but decided against it. Instead he just left the sweater he couldn't find anyway, because that made a bigger statement than any note could. It said hey maybe I'll come back, or maybe I won't. It all depends on how much I care about this sweater.

And well truth be told, Louis had had more sweaters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Louis** wasn't bad at school, he was actually the complete opposite. He was a top student when he decided to show up more than once a week. That was the problem though, he didn't show up anymore.

It wasn't his fault originally. His misadventures in truancy began when he decided to play god after his mother OD'd for the first time, but now Johannah almost dying was a natural recurrence and Louis couldn't keep saving her.

So he showed up to school when he felt like it, and today wasn't one of those days as he was sitting in a diner—pretentiously named The Diner—waiting for a platter of Belgian waffles. He figured after getting rejected twice in one night, he might as well treat himself to some good old fashioned waffle-y goodness.

Cecilia had called him a few times just to make sure he was still alive, as good friends did. He informed her that he simply wanted indulge in the delightfulness of breakfast foods instead of calculus and left it at that.

The Diner was small, and admittedly tried too hard to be retro. This didn't bother Louis much because he actually liked the checkerboard floors, red stools and booths, and the jukebox that sat in a corner. Even the old fashioned waitress uniforms were somewhat to Louis' liking.

The tapping of his boot against the linoleum was more or less rhythmic as he found it was the only way for him to remain patient. He was fucking hungry. Like really hungry, and the diner smelling so fucking good was not helping. He mindlessly twirled the straw in the glass of orange juice that sat in front of him, his eyes roaming the place.

It was surprisingly crowded for a random Wednesday morning. The stool and booths were littered with people, stools mainly though. He didn't know why he taken a booth over a stool at the counter. It made more sense seeing as counter seats were generally for people who were alone.

That didn't matter when his waitress—Pam or Barb or the like—approached his table holding two plates high. His stomach grumbled loudly—and rather embarrassingly—at the sight.

She threw him a toothy grin as she sat his food down, strands of her bottle blonde hair slipped from its ponytail. "Alright, sweetheart." She had had a southern twang Louis hadn't noticed before. "Gotcha a Belgian waffle platter with a side of homemade hash, that right?"

When he nodded she pulled a little syrup bottle from the weird contraption around her uniform, and smiled once more. It wasn't a real one though, it was too wide and forced. Louis would know, he had had his fair share of throwing people those kinds of smiles. So he threw her one right back, and dug into his waffles.

They were worth the wait. Sure they weren't as good as the sex he could've had last night, but definitely a close second.

"Passing stranger!" A voiced hovered above him, deep and slow and slightly entrancing. Louis glanced up between bites and Jesus, the face was almost just as entrancing as the voice. Well at least what he could see of it. The stranger's eyes were cloaked with dark mirrored aviators, and his face was framed with long dark curls. Nonetheless it was a good face.

"You do not know how longingly I look upon you. You must be he I was seeking." The stranger continued and why did whatever he was quoting sound so familiar? Louis sighed almost completely unfazed, or at least he hoped he looked unfazed. He took a sip of his juice before speaking.

"Did you just quote Whitman?" He asked the stranger, pointing at him with his fork. Stranger only smiled and seemed to take the question as an invitation to join Louis. He sat with a cup of what Louis could only assume was coffee and a grin. And okay this wasn't really apart of his morning plan, but it could be fun.

Louis ate while the stranger watched him, taking the occasional sip from his mug.

"Are you just gonna sit there and creepily stare at me?"

"You're pretty." The stranger announced. "Too pretty to be sitting alone."

"I like sitting alone, thank you very much. Anyway, why do you have Whitman memorized?" The stranger sat back with another one of those grins, sly and subtle.

"He's one of my favorite poets. You're familiar with him then?"

Louis shrugged. "Studied his work in one of my English courses is all."

"Speaking of which shouldn't you be in school?"

"Speaking of which shouldn't you not be riding my dick?" Louis snorted around a mouthful of hash browns. Admittedly it wasn't one of his best comebacks.

"Well yeah that's a given considering you could be riding mine." Louis choked. Like actually choked, coughing loudly and everything. This kid was throwing him off his game and that seemed to please him. "What's your name, pretty boy?"

"Louis. I'm Louis."

"I'm Harry." The name fit oddly enough. A good old Josh or Sam or something wouldn't do, but Harry? Yeah, Harry was perfect. He took of his glasses then, and remember how Louis thought he was entrancing before seeing his eyes? Well now he was hypnotizing. His eyes were deep mesmerizing pools of smoky forest green.

"What do you say we get out of here, pretty boy?" Harry asked. He pulled a few loose bills from his pocket, throwing them on the table.

And honestly Louis wasn't even sure he had heard the words correctly because those fucking eyes were knocking him off balance, messing with his chakras or whatever. He'd do anything this guy asked of him if it gave him the chance to look at those eyes a little while longer.

He stared down at his nearly empty plate of waffles for a brief moment then back up at Harry. He wasn't going to school, and he didn't have anything better to do so what did he have to lose?

"Yeah, sure." He nodded. "Why not?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Harry** spoke in poetry, his words borrowed and bittersweet and even a bit broken which made them all the more beautiful. And Louis was enthralled.

"Don't fall, pretty boy."

"My balance is impeccable, stud. " Louis smiled, proud of the nickname he came up with. "I was probably a gymnast or ballerina in another lifetime." He did a little twirl on thin beam of the train tracks, and Harry laughed.

He wasn't quite sure how they ended up on the tracks near an old junkyard somewhere outside the city, but he was sure glad they did.

The sun hung high now, bright and blazing in the late autumn sky. It was warmer than it had been for the past few days, so Louis was glad he couldn't find that sweater he left at Niall's. The jacket he wore though hung loosely on his small frame.

He carefully placed one foot in front of the other, his arms outstretched to balance himself. Harry had an arm stretched out too just in case Louis lost his footing.

"You never did tell me why you weren't in school." The taller of the two said, taking Louis' hand now. Guiding him down the tracks. And holy shit, Louis didn't even have to fight the urge to drop it.

"Most of the classes I'm taking now aren't necessary for graduation." He explained. "I took most of the ones I needed and more in prior years. A few summers too."

"You're pretty smart then?"

Louis shrugged. "Grasping concepts and shit from textbooks doesn't make you smart."

"Touché." Harry smiled. Sly and subtle again like the same little troublemaker back at the diner. "Then why not just graduate early?" Okay so Louis didn't want to play the question game anymore, but then again no one had ever bothered to ask him these kinds of questions. The real kind with substance and knowing, so he answered honestly.

"What's the point, stud? I'm not going to college or anything. Johann—my mother is gonna die eventually. She'll take too much of the wrong shit because frankly she just wants to get her fix, and she'll keel over." It was harsh and callous and far too honest, but Harry didn't so much as flinch so Louis continued.

"I'll be left with the mess to clean like always and that piece of shit house. I'm just preparing for the inevitable, and the luxury of university doesn't fit in that plan."

"Then why not make a new one?"

And that was that. Neither of them spoke for awhile. A soft wind whistled through trees and over decrepit junk that was once something somewhat useful. Louis just didn't do this, talk like this. Not even to Cecilia. This stranger though, gorgeous and poetic. Someone he meet merely hours ago. He could write a full blown novel for him.

He dropped Harry's hand then, doing another little graceful twirl on the beam before speaking.

"You know when you said 'let's get out of here', I didn't think you meant we'd be heading to a junkyard." I thought you meant more along the lines of a quick fuck in your car, he wanted to say. Harry chuckled still, a pleasantly satisfying sound.

"I didn't just find this place on a stroke of luck or bring you here on a whim, pretty boy. It's one my places. You know, the ones where you can find solace no matter the situation. Your own little piece of sanctuary." He tugged Louis down gently. Sure it was a bit weird, a place filled with useless crap being associated with sanctuaries, but he understood it.

"I see." He nodded. "And you brought me here because?" He looked up at the latter, closing the last shred of distance that stood between them.

"Maybe I just wanted you to find solace too."

And fuck, in that moment he did. Harry's lips found his in a feverish rush. Tongues tracing the curve of swollen lips before being happily invited into mouths to explore.

They stood on tracks, hands roaming and pulling at each other in hopes of becoming one. Harry's scent seemed to wrap the smaller boy in a tight embrace that seeped into his pores. And Jesus fucking Christ, he was so glad wanted those waffles today. So glad he went into that diner because now he had a new toy to add to his chest. A new play thing, or so he thought.

When they finally managed to break apart Louis sighed, because despite this all being fun—like really fucking fun—he had to get back to his real life.

"I have to get to work soon."

"Ah, so pretty boy can miss school, but work is another story?" And yeah it was. They had bills, bills Johannah could barely pay. He pushed away from Harry and motioned towards the old car they had gotten there in. He surely couldn't trek it all the way back into the city.

"A short one though. I've got to put my truancy to good use."

"Why don't you pass on it today?"

Louis smiled a little, shaking his head back and forth. "No can do. I need the money, stud."

"What if you could get the money another way?"

This was one of those times where Louis needed Cecilia or really anyone who's judgement wasn't clouded by the perfect stranger before him, but alas he was indeed left with that godforsaken bad judgement and poor decision making habit.

"Yeah? Alright, show me what you got."


	5. Chapter 5

**The** art of pick pocketing was something truly magical to see when played out properly, and yeah it was indeed an art form in its own completely fucked up way.

Nerves surged through Louis as Harry had told him that his role in the plan was just as important as Harry's himself. Like that was supposed to help with the slight jitters he had had. He caught Harry wink at him—their signal—and like that the plan was in motion. He thought back on the instructions.

"Step one: pick a prime location." Harry had explained back in the car. "Tourist traps, gas stations, public transit. Somewhere fairly crowded."

"Like this." Louis nodded, gesturing vaguely before them. They had sat in the lot of the now bumbling truck stop/gas station still on the outskirts of town.

"Step two: draw attention. The act someone or something mentioning money subconsciously reminds you of your own, if you have it and where it is. So mention it, slyly of course. This helps us scope out a good mark, because they're practically leading us right to it."

He stood near the back of a line with enough snacks to feed about three people tucked safely in the crook of his arm. He decided to stay there for a few fleeting moments before reaching his free hand in the pocket of his jacket.

"Goddammit, I left my wallet in the car." He muttered, just loud enough for the few people around him to hear. Just loud enough to draw a little attention.  
He turned around—albeit too quickly—only to drop the junk and bump into the person behind him all at once.

"Step three: the compassion distraction, which will be you, pretty boy. This is where you invite contact between you and the mark, and well I'll do the rest."

"I'm so sorry!" Louis exclaimed at the older man he had bumped into,scrambling to pick up the mess.

The man sported a scruffy beard, and was draped in fairly nice threads. A watch too. A nice one that Louis wished he was skilled enough to lift, but he supposed that came with time. "I'm such a klutz sometimes."

"It's alright." The man dragged his words in the deep snarly drawl of an accent Louis couldn't quite distinguish. "Let me help you." Oh believe me you will, he thought.

Louis placed a delicate hand on the man's forearm. "Thank you." He smiled. Contact made, and then—

"You alright, pretty boy?" Harry asked, popping out the fucking woodwork with an easy carefree stride. Louis could hear the mischief weave it's way around his words. And unlike Louis, he didn't seem nervous. Hell, this was probably something he could do in his sleep.

An airy laughed passed Louis' lips surprising himself. "Yeah yeah, just clumsy per usual. This gentlemen was nice enough to help me though."

"Good man, then." Harry gave the man's back a good strong pat when they all got to their feet again.

Louis threw him one of his signature smiles, the sweet yet utterly dazzling one this time. He couldn't help but eye the watch again because fuck, it was right there and he had had a free hand and the guy was so sucked into his smile and Harry's presence, so he snagged it.

With slight touches and swift—but admittedly fumble-y—movements he slipped it off, quickly dropping the surprisingly heavy timepiece in his pocket.

Harry gripped him by his sleeve then, gently pulling him away from the line. His nerves had been replaced with subtle hints of adrenaline and even a trace of regret because, holy shit he stole something from someone. Off of someone at that. Was he thief now? He felt like a thief. He was totally a thief.

"Louis did you hear me?" Harry whispered, his mouth close to the boy's ear. He hadn't even noticed that the man taking the junk from his arms, and dumping it all onto random shelves.

"What? No. I—"

"Come on, we gotta go."

And with that Louis all but ran out of the store which wasn't necessarily smart as it could've drawn attention to himself, but it didn't matter. As long as he was out. And Harry wasn't far behind.

When piled safety in the car, Harry peeled out of the lot. Louis pulled the watch from his pocket and rolled it around fingers. It was nicer up close, sparking silver with little diamonds in the face.

"Shit, you took that?" Harry asked.

"Y-Yeah. Can't believe he didn't notice." Louis squirmed in his seat. He really couldn't believe it. What if that guy remembered his face or saw the car they left in? Fuck, what if they actually got caught? He should've just gone to work or school or literally anywhere else.

"Relax, pretty boy. You're a natural." Harry broke his bubble of anxious thought. He rested a large hand atop the boy's restless ones. And well that definitely didn't help Louis relax because that touch was fucking electric, a shock to his senses. He squirmed even more beneath it. "Here." A bunch of thick dark leather fell into Louis' lap. The wallet.

"You got it?" Louis gasped, flipping it open. There was a barrage of assorted cards, the bearded man's license, and money. Louis thumbed over the bills with wide eyes. "There's at least a little over 200 dollars in here."

Harry smirked again. "Yeah I saw him at the atm when we came in. Figured he was a pretty good mark. Good on you for swiping the watch though."

"I didn't even see you take this."

"That's the point, pretty boy. Oh and don't worry about splitting that up." He caught Louis separating the bills. "You keep it since it was your first pick and all."

"Oh I couldn't—"

Harry's hand still laid in Louis' lap. He brought it to the pale skin of the boy's thigh and gave it a soft squeeze. "Keep it, pretty boy. Seriously. I'll be fine without it."

"Well at least keep the watch then." Louis tried to push it over into Harry's lap, but the hold the man had had on his thigh was clouding his thoughts and fucking with his motor skills.

"No, it was the first thing you actually took. Keep it as a trophy, or pawn it. I don't care. But it's yours." Louis twirled it around in his fingers once more before slipping it back in his pocket. He'd probably pawn it, after all he needed the money.

"I can take you to work now, if you like." Harry said, taking careful glances from the road to look at Louis. "Or wherever you need to be."

Louis wasn't so sure about where he needed to be, but he sure as hell knew where he wanted to be. Even with his mind still cloudy from newfound thievery and Harry's touch he knew where he wanted to be.

"How about back to yours, stud?" He practically fucking purred it, because he needed to have to upper hand again, to be in control. Harry had had too control much as it is. "You know, in celebration of a successful pick."

The green eyed man laughed, but there was no humor. All mischief and slyness, the definition of no good. "That's a dangerous game to play, pretty boy."

And amidst a sea of bad decisions, Louis couldn't help but make another one. He took the hand Harry had had on his thigh and brought it up even higher, completely underneath his skirt then.

"Well good thing I'm a good player."


	6. Chapter 6

**Louis** had never had a good fuck in a bed. A floor, sure. A couch, plenty. But never a bed. They were so intimate, and that was not what sex was for Louis. It was just an outlet—a game even—for him to some feel something again, not intimacy though. Just to feel alive, to feel like he mattered.

They never made it Harry's place, but that was okay because his car sufficed just fine.

When Harry pulled to a stop on the side of a dusty back road, he all but dragged Louis over the console into his lap. His lips found the boy's again, but differently to the time on the tracks. Tinged with adrenaline, this one. A deep seated hunger oozed from it, making Louis' head swim.

The man's hands, large and rough found their way beneath the boy's skirt, gripping tightly on the meaty flesh of his ass. He snapped the waistband of the thin lacy material against Louis' warm skin who in turn let out a soft whimper against Harry's lips.

Louis was fucking hot. His thigh highs stuck to his skin and little shiny beads of sweat had begun to run down the back of his neck. And fuck, Harry kept touching him in his favorite little places, so couldn't help rock gently against the man's lap. And that seemed to do it for Harry.

When he broke from their kiss Louis whimpered again, but Harry just smirked bringing two fingers to the boy's lips.

"Get these wet for me, will you, pretty boy?" And did he ever. Taking Harry's fingers into his mouth slow, because he'd be damned if he didn't put on a little show. Hollowing his cheeks and swiveling his tongue in agonizingly slow circular motions. He could feel the man's length growing harder beneath him, so he pushed himself down against it, dragging his hips slowly.

"Enough." Harry said lowly taking his fingers away then, his voice had seemed to drop even deeper than before. All husky and clouded with lust. "You're a little tease, aren't you?" He hiked up the boy's skirt up and slid his panties aside in one swift movement. He let his newly wet fingers ghost over Louis' hole because he could be a fucking tease too.

Louis whined and brought a hand into the man's hair, lightly pulling as a silent plea to touched. And when Harry just teased at it again he pulled harder, and a whispered a soft "please."

Harry smiled against Louis' neck when he ease a long finger in, sucking dark bruises into the boy's skin. It had been too long since someone touched him like that—granted 'too long' had only been a coupled of days. He wanted more, needed more he ignored the pain grinding down on that single finger silently pleaded for more.

"So eager for me." Harry hummed, pushing a second finger in. He pumped gently then, scissoring and curling his fingers. Louis forgot to breathe in those moments, letting his head fall against Harry's shoulder desperately trying to push air from his lungs, but all he got were small strangled groans.

"Breathe for me, baby." And that was all it took for the air to flood his lungs once more—as well as Harry pushing another finger inside him. Softly mumbled whimpers poured like that of raindrops from his lips when he could make sound again.

His bit at the shell of the man's ear and found himself fumbling with the button of his jeans. Harry lifted a bit, so Louis could ease them down. The boy was surprised the find the man bare beneath his pants, his girth hard and prominent and well big. Bigger than Louis had expected.

He took it in both his hands, stroking slowly. Harry was staring at him when he looked up again. His eyes were dark and hooded and hazy, and low groans were slipping from his lips. Louis didn't dare break eye contact, not even when Harry brushed his prostate. The air was thick with lust and need, nearly pushing them both over the edge.

So they relocated to the back seat which mainly consisted of Louis whining from loss of contact and shakily climbing to the back accompanied by little slaps on his ass from Harry in the hope of silencing him.

Louis laid back against the warm leather with even warmer skin. Harry just looked at him for awhile, because well he was a sight to see. His skin took on a bright pink hue, and his skirt flipped up high over his stomach revealing flushed thighs and a pretty little cock laid flat against his skin—he wasn't too sure where Harry had thrown his panties.

Louis had always carried condoms and a tiny bottle of lube in his bag specifically for situations like this one, but Harry was prepared as well. He pulled a condom from his glove compartment before climbing into the backseat with Louis. The sight of the man ripping the plastic with his teeth in almost a primal manner made Louis tingle.

When Harry pushed into him he winced, the stretch a deliciously pleasurable burn that Harry's fingers hadn't properly prepared him for. He was aching for it though, and Harry happily gave it to him. His thrusts were frenzied and hard making loud sinful moans erupt from deep in Louis' belly.

"You'll feel me for weeks, won't you, pretty boy?" Harry growled it, thick and heavy. Louis arched bringing himself impossibly closer to the man when he jabbed at that little bundle of nerves over and over in a mercilessly rhythmic crescendo of utter and absolute pleasure.

"C-can feel you right here." Louis brought his hand to his lower tummy. And okay you'd think he was exaggerating for Harry's sake, but fuck he wasn't.

It was all becoming too much with the mix of heat and Harry relentlessly pulling almost completely out and then slamming back into him and muttering a chorus of "so good for me, pretty boy" and "wish I could really feel you", he was sure he'd pass out. God, he wanted complete skin to skin too, slightly angered by the fact that there were still clothes separating them.

Nonetheless before he knew it he was coming, spurting white against the underside of his black skirt, writhing in ecstasy beneath the man. Harry wasn't too far behind, spilling into the condom and collapsing onto of Louis all at once.

They laid, breaths and heartbeats steadily intertwining. Sticky and sweating, Harry laughed. It was low and barely there, but it broke the silence so Louis looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

"If this was the product of you lifting a watch, I can't wait until you lift something even better, pretty boy."

And then Louis laughed too. "Yeah. Me too, stud. Me too."

 

≫≫≫

 

The house was quiet when Louis strolled in, still riding on his high from his time with Harry even though it had been hours since then. He was sure the place was empty until he made his way upstairs and found Johannah in the master bedroom.

She was two shades to the wind as always, and he didn't know why he expected otherwise. He pulled the wallet Harry had lifted from his bag and thumbed through the bills.

He tossed nearly all of it on the dresser then made his way for the door. He stopped sighing to himself before turning and throwing the rest of it down. He'd pray to somebody that she'd actually use the money for bills. She had to.

"Lou." Joannah muttered just before he was about to walk out. He stopped so short he almost tripped over his own feet. She wasn't high, at least not in that moment. He hadn't actually talked to her in weeks. She was usually never lucid enough for a real conversation. He didn't turn to look at her, just muttered a low "yeah?" keeping his eyes on the floor.

"Thanks for taking care of me, of us." And maybe she saw the money, or maybe she just actually saw her son for the first time in a long time, but whatever it was it got to him. Those eight words gave him a glimmer of the woman she was when he was a little boy. But he wasn't a little boy and she wasn't that woman anymore.

So he heaved another sigh before muttering, "Sure thing, Jay." And that would be the last proper conversation they'd have for another long while.


	7. Chapter 7

**They** weren't thing, Louis and Harry. They were something, but not a thing. Louis wasn't one for proper relationships, and he learned that Harry wasn't either which was fine. And yet still they were something.

The thing is this something was different as opposed to the somethings he had had with Niall or Will or anyone else he slept with for that matter, and that worried him. Maybe it was because they didn't actually fuck every time they were together.

Sometimes they'd pickpocket or the man would just take him to work instead. They'd head back to the tracks near the junkyard more often than not where Harry'd recite poetry and choked down cigarettes and Louis would just sit back completely enamored.

On occasion Harry'd even sneak up in through Louis' window at night—as if Johannah actually gave a damn about who stepped foot in the house—and sleep with him. Just sleep. He'd always be gone by morning, but the fact that he even came in first place was something.

"Earth to Louis." Cecilia snapped her fingers at the boy. "Where's your head right now?" And even with asking, she already knew the answer. Louis had informed her all about the infamous Harry. She hadn't yet met the man and hadn't expected to. And though she didn't really approve she left that all to herself.

"Just thinkin' is all. Sorry, Li. What were you saying?" He mumbled around a bite of strawberry. Cecilia had had a bowl of fruit sat out as she claimed it was brain food.

She sat on the floor, her shaggy area rug covered in textbooks, notebooks, and the like. The room was bright and moderately 70s inspired. Louis laid sprawled out on her bed munching on the fruit. He had taken the particular class she was studying for last summer.

You see, Louis wasn't just your average run–of–the–mill smart, he was really smart. He had this eidetic memory thing that was a bit of a blessing and a curse. Had no idea where he got it from either. Maybe from the father he barely knew, or maybe it was just a Louis thing.

He glanced at Cecilia because she was indeed talking again, but he wasn't listening. He raked his eyes over her intently then. Such a pretty girl, she was. Her beauty although understated, still very prominent. The kind of unknowing beauty you had to remind her she possessed. She shook out her tumble of dark hair, a mess of waves against rich tawny skin.

"Lou, you're not listening again."

"I'm sorry! Go on, I'm listening. I swear."

She huffed before speaking, but spoke nonetheless. "Weist asked about you again. Everyone is doing college apps, and he'd really like it if you applied somewhere. Anywhere really."

Mr. Weist was their guidance and a constant pain in Louis' ass. He wasn't going to uni, he made that clear to everybody, Weist included.

"Li." He sighed, rolling away from her.

"I know, I know. No school for you, but Weist isn't going to let it go. You know that. Your SAT scores were phenomenal, Lou. You could literally get into schools off of those alone." And so he tuned her out again because eventually she'd just drop it and stop talking all together. Which she did.

The room was silent apart from Cecilia's occasional mumbles about trigonometric functions and whatnot, until Louis' phone sounded. A loud shrill ring that had Cecilia chucking pencils at him until he answered it.

"Hello." He breathed, dodging a stray pencil with a grin.

"Hey there, pretty boy." No matter how many times Louis heard it, how many times Harry had called him that, it still gave his stomach those familiar tingles.

"Hiya, stud. What's going on?"

"Was just gonna ask you the same. You busy?"

"Not entirely. Why? What've you got up your sleeves, Styles?"

"Just in need of some time with a certain pretty boy is all."

"I suppose that could be arranged. Pick me up, will you?" He heard Cecilia make a little humph sound at that.

"Of course. Are you home?"

"No, I'm at Cecilia's." He almost rattled off her address, but remembered that this wasn't the first time Harry had plucked him away from his best friend's place. When they said their goodbyes, he turned to Cecilia who stared at him knowingly.

"Leaving me again, are you, Tomlinson?" She gasped, feigning shock. "This wasn't much of a study date, boyo."

"I'll make it up to you, I swear. Scouts' honor."

"You weren't even a scout, nimrod."

"Was too, for a couple of days anyway. Scout leader was hot though, too much temptation for my ten year old loins."

"Ew, Lou!" She chucked another pencil at him. Where'd this unlimited supply of pencils ready for throwing come from anyways? He decided not to dabble on that too long.

"Is he good to you?" Cecilia asked, and all the playfulness leapt from her voice and was replaced with sincere concern.

"What?"

"Harry. Is he good to you?"

He chuckled, albeit forced and a bit uneasy. "Jesus, Li. He isn't my boyfriend."

"And yet you still didn't answer my question."

"He treats me good, yeah? Like a fucking king. Worships the ground I walk on. Is that what you wanna hear, because that's not what you're gonna get. We fuck, that's all." And okay she hadn't deserved that, he knew that.

"I'm just looking out for you, Lou. You know that." Was that hurt he detected? Goddammit, don't let it be hurt.

He dropped to the floor, sitting across from her and her mountain of scholastic mess. "I do know that. I'm sorry. It's just—we're fine. He's fine. We treat each other fine. You don't need to worry."

Oh but she did need to, she really did.

He stayed until Harry had pulled up outside. Helping her a bit with her work, and by helping her he meant just giving her answers that she promptly refused to accept.

When he got himself together to leave, waving goodbye, and throwing her a "don't study too hard" she was calling after him.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Too late." he mumbled to himself. Yeah, too late.

≫≫≫

"Where are we going?" Louis asked, the heel of his sneakers propped upagainst Harry's dashboard.

He hadn't sported a skirt that day. Instead he wore an old pair of high waisted shorts and one of Harry's faded band tees the man had lent him after one of their many trysts.

He wore it with the ends bunched into a little knot, his midriff exposed. It was admittedly too chilly for an outfit such as that one as late autumn had pushed any stray traces of summer out in the last few weeks.

"My place." Harry said simply. Oh. That was new. He'd never been to Harry's place. He wasn't sure if they had had limits, but Harry's place felt like hard one. It was off limits, until now.

"Oh. Okay."

"I share a place with a friend. He's there now, might have a few people over as well."

"I'm meeting your friends then?"

"I've met your friends."

"No, you met a couple co-workers when you dropped me off that time. They aren't friends. I haven't got any friends."

"You've got Cecilia."

"And you haven't met her, have you? Frankly I don't want you to. She's too pure, too good." For you and me.

"You saying I'm not good, pretty boy?" The man glanced over at him with one of those cocky sly grins like he intended on showing the boy just how not good he could be later.

Louis threw him a grin of his own. "That's exactly what I'm saying, stud."

Harry lived in the heart of the city, which Louis liked—he also liked that the man lived not too far from one of the pizza joints he had frequented with Cecilia.

When they pulled into a tight space—that Louis was surprised was actually available—in front of Harry's building, he gave the man a lopsided smile.

The building wasn't nice, and Louis didn't think it would be. Don't get him wrong it was far from bad, it just wasn't nice. He expected Harry to take him to some five floor walk-up when they stepped inside, but instead took him down a maze of hallways until the were stood at a freight elevator. They took it down a couple of floors under they landed on Harry's.

"What's this then?" Louis asked following Harry off the elevator.

"My place." He replied. "Come on." He lead the boy to a door, or something like it. It was unnecessarily large and looked to be made of steel, but nonetheless Harry banged on it, and after a few moments it opened.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Louis wasn't known for being ever speechless, but this Adonis reincarnate, the one that stood before them with an easy smile and heavy lidded hazel eyes made him forget every word he'd ever  
known—momentarily anyway.

Harry was gorgeous, but this man possessed a whole different species of beauty. So Louis basked in for a moment, and then he gained control again.

"Hey, mate." The man said, stepping aside. His accent thick and reeked heavily of England. There was a little bit of American sprinkled over the top, but the English pushed through. "Who've you got 'ere?"

"Louis, this is Zayn. Zayn, Louis." Harry said, leading Louis inside who threw the man a small smile. And okay so maybe the building wasn't nice, but their place was.

It seemed to be one of those warehouses turned loft deals. The floor plan was open, the only thing separating "rooms" were a couple of walls.

There was a staircase pushed against a wall that lead up to another "room", Louis supposed was Harry's. He imagined the place looked even better in the day as light would stream in from the windows lined high along the walls.

"Nice place you got here, stud." Louis said, stepping around in a little circle.

"It's all thanks to me." Zayn broke in before Harry could speak. He had ambled back over to the couch that had seated two other people, none as remarkable as he, but they were there. "This place was proper shit before I came 'round."

"I take offensive to that." Harry scoffed. Louis watched him idly, feeling a bit out of place amidst it all. "It was just too minimalistic for your taste." The banter went on until Harry joined his friend, dragging Louis along with him.

The two that were already on the couch hadn't said much of anything, and neither Zayn nor Harry made an effort of introducing them.

Harry plopped into a recliner opposite the couch, and brought Louis down on his lap. The boy flushed, but stayed seated. He eventually settled leaning back into the man.

They talked amongst themselves, and Louis chimed in every so often to throw in a bit of sharp tongued wit and knowing cynicism.

Harry's fingers stroked lazily at the boy's thighs, making him go all lax and pliant against him. He was sure the man's touch was going to guide him into an easy slumber, but the stroking stopped and Louis followed his gaze.

It had fallen on one of the friends of Zayn's. The girl, Jamie, he was pretty sure he heard Zayn call her. She had pulled a tube from a bag she held close and handed over to Zayn with a smile. But it wasn't a tube, it was a bottle, small and orange and all too familiar.

"Shit, is this oxy?" Zayn asked, popping the cap. He allowed the mess of pills to tumble onto the coffee table.

"Yeah, just scored it today." Jamie beamed proudly like she deserved a fucking medal, and Louis' stomach coiled into knots. Oxycodone was a personal favorite of Johannah's, and one of the things that almost brought her to her demise. Zayn caught his stare, and smiled of all things.

"You want in on this, princess?" He watched the man, crush a few pills with the bottle they came in.

"No, he doesn't." Harry spoke up after feeling the boy tense in his lap. "We don't do that shit, man. Take it somewhere else, will you?"

"Harry it's fin—" Louis started to say, pretending as if that "we" hadn't tugged at his heart strings just a little.

"It's not." He cut him off. Shifting the boy from his lap, so he could stand. And instead for lurching forward for Zayn like Louis thought he would, he just rolled his eyes and led Louis away towards the stairs.

He was right about the "room" upstairs being Harry's. There wasn't much, so it was a lot like him in that aspect, empty and aloof. The man wasted no time in sprawling out on his dark sheets, and pulling Louis with him.

"Sorry about that. Zayn tends to forget that everyone else isn't just like him." He carded swift fingers through Louis' hair.

"It's fine. Just was unexpected is all, it didn't bother me that much."

"There's no need to lie to me, pretty boy."

"I'm not—" Louis stopped himself because Harry knew, Harry saw through it. Saw through him. "Thanks."

"Of course." The man's voice was soft. "Believe me, every heart holds its secret sorrows which the world knows not."

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, letting the borrowed words linger.

And something changed in that moment. Louis felt it, and he prayed to a fucking god he didn't believe in that Harry hadn't, because in that stupid bed at that very moment it wasn't a game anymore. At least not for him.

With no accompaniment of sex or the like, he felt something. And sure, it was only a glimmer, but it was something. It was there, and that's all that mattered. He was alive and breathing and feeling. After only finding comfort at the floor of  
swimming pools for so long, he was alive.

But Harry, who was already alive and breathing and feeling hadn't feel it, whatever it was. As he laid with that fragile boy pulled to his chest, he was still playing the game.


	8. Chapter 8

**It** was funny, in that familiarly cynical way Louis saw everything, that he didn't like waking up alone anymore considering that he left so many others to do just that. He supposed that hadn't mattered until now. Not until Harry.

He watched as the man slipped from his bed with furtive grace, keeping his breaths even as he would when he slept. He didn't want the man to know that he was indeed awake, so he kept still and his eyes low.

Harry moved almost imperceptibly in the dark of night. The only things giving the room a least a bit of illumination was the multitude of street lamps and good old Mr. moon.

Stay, he wanted to say, but Harry wouldn't because he never did. Louis was beginning to think he was holding the man's hands too tight. But those hands were the only things keeping him from falling apart now-a-days, or so it seemed. Maybe they doing just the opposite.

Louis felt the world's tectonic plates shift beneath his feet back at that loft in that bed, the shift in dynamic changing everything. But he realized it wasn't the world's tectonic plates at all. Just his world's and his alone.

So he let Harry go as if he had had a choice, watching him climb out of the window in which he came all too quickly.

He thought of Niall in that moment oddly enough, and the sweater he had left behind that night all too long ago. The eerily haunting déjà vu settled comfortably against bruised bones.

Louis believed in many things, but karma wasn't amongst them. If he did though in that very moment he'd have felt, maybe even tasted the bitter overcast karma had left in its wake.

Louis was just another sweater.

 

≫≫≫

 

The light of day had finally set upon the city, and Louis hadn't managed to get a wink of sleep after Harry slipped away. Instead he readied himself for work, but he didn't actually have to be there for another few hours.

He didn't bother checking on Johannah as she had had company when she stumbled in last night, drunk or high or maybe a deadly mix of the two. He pushed it aside, leaving it all back in the house as he stepped out of it.

As much as he liked the night, he loved the morning. His nights were the same old melancholic repetition of a song he'd heard a million times, but his mornings could be different. In most cases they weren't, but they had the potential to be and that was enough.

Louis had had a place of solace much like Harry's, decrepit and distant and seemingly meaningless. He trekked to it, and upon arrival a tinge of weary nostalgia washed over him.

It was a playground smaller now that he was older and bigger, although there wasn't too much there to begin with. Just a few jangly swings and a slide or two.

The memories though, blurred and distant were still there. He could very vaguely see silhouettes of little Louis and his mother and father, all happy and unknowing.

He crouched in a little patch of grass, letting misty dew covered blades tickle his skin. A welcome of sorts. He laid in it then, his body sprawled amongst the earth. His solace—albeit different—still all too similar to Harry's.

"You okay, mister?" Louis peeked an eye open at the voice hovering above him. It was only a kid, with deep olive skin and a mop of dark curly hair falling in his face.

Louis threw an arm over his eyes. "Yeah. I'm fine, kid." With that he thought the little boy would leave, but instead he sat right beside Louis in the grass.

"My mom said it's supposed to rain today. You shouldn't be laying in the grass, you'll get all wet."

"Speaking of which, should you be with your mom? Or at school or something?"

"Mom's at work now, she's a nurse. I usually meet a couple kids out here and we go to school together, but I think they left already."

"You've got shitty friends then."

The little boy huffed. "They aren't my friends, just some kids I know." Louis rose at that, seeing as the comment sounded like something he'd say. He brought himself up and his knees to his chest. The boy looked younger now that Louis could actually see him better. Maybe seven or eight.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Mateo."

"Mateo." Louis repeated. "I'm Louis."

"Like Louis Armstrong." Mateo grinned, all toothy and proud.

"What do you know about Louis Armstrong?"

"My nana liked jazz. She had a bunch of his records and would play them for us all the time. My mom got all the records when nana passed away." Louis wanted to tell the boy to stop talking, to stop telling such intimate things to a stranger, but he didn't.

It'd be extremely hypocritical on his part seeing as he gave the most intimate parts of himself to strangers more often than not, so who was he to talk?

"You've got an old soul, Mateo." He said instead, and climbed to his feet. He dusted himself off before lending a hand down to the boy and pulling him to his feet as well. "So where's this school?"

"On fifth." It was Mateo turn to dust himself off, missing the little bulge Louis' eyes did when learning the new information.

"Fifth? You've gotta take the subway to get there." Louis said, puzzled. The kid was so small, so young. But Louis too had to do a lot for himself at a young age. "What school do you go to?"

"St. Mary's." The boy pointed to the emblem on the little blazer he wore.

"Jesus Christ, alright. Let's go then."

"What?" Mateo asked, his dark eyes perplexed.

"I'm gonna take you school. Seeing as you could use a friend and all." And well so could Louis. "Now get a move on. Don't wanna get caught in the rain, do you?"

And so he went with the boy, all the way to the subway, all the way to fifth, all the way to St. Mary's.

The whole encounter hadn't felt real, more like Louis had been looking at a distorted version of his younger self. It was nice though. The few moments of being brought out of his own problems and issues even for a little while.

So if Louis had believed karma, his encounter Mateo—whether real or imagined—could be categorized as the good kind.


	9. Chapter 9

**There** was nothing Louis loved more than celebrating a good pick with Harry. For when the pick was good, the sex was even better. Delighted twisted, it was. But there was something about the petty crimes that did something else to them both.

"Shit, baby." Harry groaned lowly against Louis' chest. His hands gripped tightly enough at the boy's hips to leave dark bruises. Louis only lifted then dropped himself down on the man's length faster at that. Hot puffs of air from ragged rushed breaths had begun to fog up the windows.

When Harry maneuvered just so to snap his hips up to meet Louis' he had the boy seeing stars. His moans and pleads turned into a jumbled mess of impossibly needier incoherent syllables.

Louis, who's arms were wrapped securely around Harry's neck, tugged at desperately at the man's unruly hair. Pulling, pleading, begging for release.

And when he got it—because Harry made damn sure that he got it—the world around him seemed to slip away all at once. His head, a clouded paradise when he enter the seventh heaven of euphoric bliss, and Harry was on his heels.

Louis slumped against the man's chest, taking heavy languid breaths until Harry tapped his thigh in signal for him to get up. He climbed—as gracefully as one could with fresh spunk slowly running down his thighs—back into the passenger seat.

And okay he tried not to watch Harry, but he couldn't help it. The man's face was beautifully flushed from orgasm and his messy mane even more unruly thanks to Louis. He had pulled his pants back on and ran a few fingers through his hair without a wink.

Louis tugged on his panties then busied himself with the wallets he lifted when the man had begun to drive again. He thumbed through bills and threw out cards. They went on a spree, he and Harry. Luck was on their side at a lively restaurant—and luck being Harry pulling fire alarm and Louis springing to action through the crowd that filed outside.

There was at least a total of six wallets between the two, Louis' body still tingled with leftover adrenaline. He was beginning to grow uncomfortable though as the hot wetness between his thighs was going cool and sticky, drying against his skin. He hoped they were going back to the man's place, so he could at least snag a shower.

The bitter realization that that wasn't happening sunk in when Harry had begun to take to a familiar route to the boy's home.

"We made away with a lot, stud." Louis said, finally breaking the silence.

"Yeah? You've gotten so much better."

"Thought you said I was a natural."

Harry grinned and reached over, giving the boy's knee a squeeze. "You are, but even naturals get better with time, pretty boy."

"Yeah yeah." Louis rolled his eyes as he sifted through the discarded cards. He tried not to linger on the licenses for too long, because that made them people instead of mere bills stuffed into wallets. It made them real.

"You know, you could go on to bigger things, pretty boy."

"Oh yeah?" Louis laughed sans any traces of actual humor. "Like what, stud? Knocking down liquor stores? Holding up banks?" And Harry's silence said all that needed to be said.

"Holy fuck wha—Jesus, Harry. You wanna be fucking proper robbers now, do you? You don't get a big enough rush from stealing off tourists?"

"I didn't even say anything."

"And that said enough. You have job, I have a job. And with the picks, isn't that enough?"

"Think about it, pretty boy. You barely make anything at that gas station, I mean who's paying your bills now, Louis?" The people we steal from, he thought. And inadvertently Harry as he introduced him to the whole thing.

And so fell the silence again. Louis pocketed his money, and wriggled in his seat. He wasn't a fucking thief. Okay, he was. Sure, he stole some wallets, but he wasn't a serious thief. No matter how much he hated to admit it, he was just a kid. A kid who wanted to take care of his fucked up mother, and nothing more.

When Harry pulled up to the old house Louis had grown to despise, he heaved one of those heavy sighs.

"Where are you off to now?" He didn't really want to know, because wherever it was he wasn't invited.

The man just grinned in that famously sly and knowing way. "I have some prior engagements to attend to. But don't you fret, I'll see you again real soon, baby." He took Louis' face in nicotine stained fingers and fit his lips to the latter's in a feverishly carnal embrace. No matter the situation he'd always seem to leave the boy's head swimming.

 

≫≫≫

 

It was late when Johannah came in with Thom trailing her heels. Louis really hadn't believed they'd last this long, but there he was only making Johannah worse.

Louis was sat at the kitchen table with the glasses he barely ever wore perched on his nose, sorting through bills like his mother should've been. He rolled his eyes at the two when they walked through the dimly light kitchen.

He watched as Thom rifled through the fridge for beer or something of the like. And Johannah, all smiley and inebriated walked right over to him. She planted rough chapped lips against his fringe. Louis didn't like when she was like this.

Don't get him wrong, he didn't like Johannah in any intoxicated state, but this one was the worst. She'd try to be mom in moments like these as well as friend, but she was neither in reality. And then he'd lose her, like always.

"Hi there, boo." She slurred. "What are you doing up so late? Haven't you got school?"

Louis fought an eye roll. "You don't give a shit about school, Jay. Please don't pretend you do." He watched her smile falter only for a second.

"Lou I—"

"Did you know about this?" He waved a pink piece of paper at her before she could continue. "It's a cut off notice from the electric company. They're gonna cut off our fucking lights, Jay. I gave you the money for it."

He flinched when she reached for him, brushing delicate fingers over his cheekbones. "You look so much like him, you know."

"Jay, please—"

"I see him every time I look at you, Lou." Her eyes were going glassy, she was breaking all over again.

"He left, Jay! And he's not coming back. But I'm here, and so are these bills. I need you to listen to me." But she wouldn't. She rose with tears spilling over her cheeks, and was gone just like that.

He pitied his mother for allowing someone to break her so badly. He never wanted to be that, never wanted to be her.

"Goddammit." He groaned to himself, tossing the pink slip aside.

"You need to lay off your mother." Thom said, making his presence known again. Louis had hoped he'd just left in the midst of Johannah's little break down. "She's going through tough times."

"I'd back off if I were you, Thom. This isn't any of your business. I shouldn't have to be her father. She's my mother, she's supposed to take care of me. I'm going through things too, and yet I'm still taking care of everything around here like it's my fucking job!"

"You know, you better watch that mouth of yours, boy." Thom warned, the rasp and grit of his voice made Louis' skin crawl and his stomach turn. "It'll get you into something you can't handle."

"Fuck you, you're not my father." Louis hissed, because he was tired of Thom and all the ones like him. "This isn't your house, you don't own shit here. God, that fucking beer isn't even yours." Louis broke into his space then, heated and threatening to break. "It was paid for with my money!"

When the slap hit Louis wasn't entirely what had happened. His glasses had flown from his face, skidding across floor in what seemed like slow motion. Everything was in slow motion after that.

He was sure he heard "You need a lesson in respect, boy" when Thom grabbed him from floor and threw him against the table, but he couldn't trust his ears. The papers that littered the table fell at a snail's pace in wispy heaps.

His screams for his mother and protests to be let go of were muffled to his own ears, like he'd been pushed back to the bottom of that swimming pool all over again.

He hadn't heard the shrill rip of his clothes being torn from his body, just the muffled screams from below the surface. They fell on deaf ears anyhow as he'd lost Johannah when he needed as he always did. He screamed anyway though, until his throat burned in the hopes of anyone hearing him.

And when Thomas pushed into him with all of his hatefully raw animalistic fury all of the strings holding Louis together snapped one by one.


	10. Chapter 10

**Louis** wasn't the best swimmer, but he could tread water. He always saw the treading as being a harder task than the swimming itself. Keeping afloat was supposed to be the easy part, right?

But his legs ached and cramped now. The tide was too high. Roaring and beating unforgivably rough against his bruised bones. It begged for him to let go, and he was ready to give into the fierce waves.

"Lou?" He heard called—albeit muffled by the waves in his head and the actual water he lie beneath—accompanied by a soft knock. "Come out soon, okay? You need to eat something." Niall stood idly outside the door waiting from some kind of response from the boy and sighed when he got nothing.

Louis broke the surface when he hadn't heard Niall say anything else. He pulled his knees to his chest as his bath had run expectantly cold.

He glanced over to the counter of the sink where the clothes Niall had offered him sat, an old sweatshirt that would most likely fit him seeing as it was from Niall's high school days and gym shorts that he'd have to bunch up to keep on his small frame.

He let the water drain from the tub completely before climbing out and slipping into the clothes. He didn't bother looking at himself in the mirror, he couldn't look at himself anymore. He just gathered up the clothes he had previously worn and tossed them in the makeshift laundry basket Niall had made for him.

He was quiet in his movements, so quiet that Niall hadn't heard him leave the bathroom. He watched the blonde stand over the stove, there was a window at the breakfast bar that Niall hadn't bothered to look through. He was too busy stirring at the concoction before him, and talking on the phone that sat in the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

"No, of course I don't mind him staying here. I just—I don't know, man. I'm worried about him. It's been nearly a week since he got here and he hasn't said a word." Pause. "Not one fucking word. I can barely get him to eat, you know? God, he was so messed up when he showed up here. I just want him to be okay."

He saw Louis then, gave him a sad smile. He muttered a low "I'll call you back" before throwing the phone aside and settling his gaze on the boy again.

"Lou, you alright?" He asked slow and delicately like Louis was a fawn that'd make a break for it at any given moment. The boy nodded but stayed silent, and that was good enough for Niall. "Sit, babe. Stay awhile."

And Louis did, taking a seat at the breakfast bar. He pulled a protective knee to his chest to sort of shield himself. Niall filled the air with talk about school and work and just utter nonsense while he cooked, while Louis sat silent with his eyes glued to the marble of the counter. He picked at his nail beds until Niall sat a plate in front of him.

"Eat." He encouraged. His blue eyes earnest, but his brow was creased with worry. Louis only picked at the poorly made omelet, taking tiny bites that didn't settle well in his stomach. He gently nudged the plate away, and Niall sighed lightly.

"How are you feeling?" The blonde tried. Nothing.

"Wanna take a walk with me before I'm off to class? The fresh air might do you some good." Nothing. Niall rounded the counter taking a seat next to the boy then.

"Babe, I need you to talk to me." He urged quietly. Louis closed his eyes, digging jagged bitten nails into the knee he had pulled close. But closing his eyes didn't help because could see it again, he could feel it over again.

"Hey, stop that." Niall spoke easy. "You're gonna hurt yourself." The bruises Louis sported underneath his cheekbones had gone darker now and Niall reached to rub the pad of his thumb over the darkened skin while simultaneously pulling the boy's hands away from his knee.

Louis let out a painfully panicked screech and he backed away, tumbling from the stool and landing flat on his bottom all at once. Niall, unsure of what to do went to help him up, but the boy only scrambled back further. The stark blatant fear on his face shattered the blonde's heart.

"Oh Lou." He said it so pitifully Louis had to close his eyes again. "What happened to you? You know, I'd never hurt you, right?"

Louis squeezed his eyes closed even tighter, willing tears to go away. God, he was so tired and couldn't even forced words from his throat anymore. He pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes trying to push the memories away, but they stayed etched into his memory, branded into his brain.

Niall threw in the towel after while, advising Louis to eat and maybe get some air while he was gone. He left a blanket on the floor in case the boy decided to make refuge down there. He was alone after that as Niall had had class and the oh-so-mysterious roommate was barely ever present.

Niall predicted right as the boy hadn't moved from the floor for a few hours. He sat until his muscles cramped from the uncomfortable position and then still sat even after that. He was so fucking tired of treading water.

He was ready to drown.

 

≫≫≫

 

Taking the steps outside was much harder than Louis had been expecting, but when he started he couldn't stop. His feet had minds of their own, carrying him further then he was ready to go.

He ran. He ran until his lungs begged for him to stop and a migraine had properly blossomed. But then he was there. His skin prickled with weary as he stood in front of the house. His house. It hadn't looked so menacing in the light of day, but oh, the secrets it held in its walls said otherwise.

The cat that lingered around the neighborhood—the one Louis fed more often than not—sat perched on the highest step that led up to his porch. His fur was a dingy orange caked with brown sludge from the dirt he'd roll in. He lovingly bumped Louis' leg with his big head when the boy passed.

His heartbeat quickened with every step he took, pushing against his rib cage violently. It was too soon, he shouldn't have come back yet. He hadn't even thought about the possibility of Johannah being inside, but she was the least of his worries anyway.

It was the same, darker and sadder to Louis' eyes now though when he stepped in. He tried to turn on a light, but he when he flipped one of the switches nothing happened. He hadn't expected his mother to pay bills in his absence, but fuck he hadn't expected her to let things go to complete and utter shit either.

He wanted to call out for her, see if she was there, but he couldn't force the words from his mouth. Couldn't force himself to say her name again.

And okay he was going to leave, he really was. He had seen enough, he didn't need to keep going, but he did anyway. His steps to the kitchen were slow, and oh god no. He wanted to run again, but he couldn't. His goddamn feet took him the opposite way.

The papers still littered the floor, and chairs were still overturned. Fuck, even his glasses still laid upon the mess, and Louis could feel it all over again. The slaps and punches. The hot foul breathes beating against his neck, and the hateful words pouring from the sharpest angriest tongue he'd ever encountered.

The waves, the waves were beating at him again. The tide was pulling him further from the shore and down, down to the deepest depths of the darkest ocean.

He dug his fingernails into his skin again, trying to push the sensations of Thomas' filthy hand from his body. Filthy hands that roamed his delicate skin, filthy hands that broke him.

He sunk to the floor when the tears rolled free in heavy heaps, burning his cheeks in the process. He dug his nails into exposed skin until he drew blood and his head cleared and all he could focus on was the pain he controlled.

He was drowning.


	11. Chapter 11

August slipped into September with ease, a light chill had begun to settle over the city. The jacket Louis wrapped himself within was a heavy atrocity that belonged to Niall. An old and worn grey thing that was riddled with pockets which actually came in handy.

He had at least two wallets, a watch, and a tennis bracelet hidden inside the coat, but he was far from finished. The train was such an easy place to pick from. With the cars being so cluttered and the bodies pressed together so closely, it was like taking candy from incredibly careless babies.

Being smaller than most had its advantages as well. He could slink his way through the crowded car with ease, slipping delicate fingers into pockets or around wrists like it was second nature. Until it wasn't.

When he nicked another wallet from an unsuspecting stranger he hadn't expected to get caught, and he supposed that stupid on his part. Thinking he was suddenly invincible and all.

"Hey!" The man said, patting the empty pocket. And Louis was thankful that his feet worked before his brain told him to, because he was running now, pushing through people and not daring to look back.

He could feel the man coming after him, but he didn't stop. He was running out of space though, the train car was only so big.

Think, Lou. Fuck, think! The train was coming to a halt, and the man was close. He was going to get caught. Shit shit shit. But when the doors opened, he forced himself to get lost in the crowd that exited. Louis turned when the doors snapped close and the man, red and seething beat against it.

Louis, who could finally breathe again let out a relieved chuckle, and even waved at the man as the train pulled away. Holy shit. He should've been shitting himself or swearing of pick pocketing for good, but no.

He was excited of all things, a different kind of adrenaline coursed through his veins. It was the first time he'd felt alive in awhile.

He opened the wallet that caused him so much trouble and fingered through it. There wasn't too much cash in it, a couple of credits cards, but nothing of substance. A business card caught his eye. Detective Payne. Auburn City PD.

He flipped back to the license and for sure there in plain day, Liam Payne. Officer Payne. Detective Payne.

He closed the wallet then, pulling the sleeves of the jacket over his hands. He wiped the leather clean of his fingerprints, and chucked it into a nearby garbage can. He should've tossed it down on the tracks after thinking about it.

He hadn't gotten a good picture of the man's face while him seeing on the train. He only saw it clearly when he had a look at the license. If he hadn't gotten a good look at the man, the man couldn't have gotten a good look at him either, right?

The trek back to Niall's wasn't nearly as long as it usually felt, the adrenaline helped with that, he supposed. God, running from that guy, that cop made the boy's skin tingle with excitement. It was like a high he'd never felt before.

He still hadn't gotten used to the four floor walk up to Niall's place no matter how many times he walked it. His muscles however did, they didn't ache as much anymore when he did it.

He could hear the blonde before he even stepped inside, his loudly obnoxious laughter rang through loud and clear. He hadn't liked staying at his place. It was nice and Niall was, but it wasn't Louis'. He felt like more of an intruder than a guest.

The apartment smelled like takeout and cigarettes, a familiar smell that Louis couldn't place right away. Niall hadn't smoked so he assumed it was Dylan, the roommate. And he was right.

The boys sat on the couch, Niall laughed at whatever was on the TV and Dylan picked at a takeout container.

"Hey, Lou." Niall beamed at him. His eyes were bright and shiny from the laughter. "Dyl bought Chinese." Dylan wasn't much bigger than Louis, a bit taller but their build was pretty much the same. His eyes were a tired grey though and his hair a dusty blonde. He threw Louis a wave and a shy smile.

Niall patted the seat next to him, he was going on about whatever they were watching while beckoning Louis to join. And the boy was going to sit, but then he saw it. A jacket sprawled against the back of the couch.

He brought into his hands before he could stop himself, examining it closer. He knew this jacket. The color, the smell, the feel, it had been on his skin countless times. He knew it.

"And then the guy was all— Lou? What's wrong? That's Dylan's, babe. Right, Dyl? That's—"

"No, it's not, Niall." Louis hissed lowly. Those were the first words he uttered to the blonde in weeks, the first words he uttered to anyone. He saw Niall's shock, but ignored it. "Where did you get this?" He knew. He already knew, but he needed Dylan to say it. He needed to hear it.

"Oh, uh it's a friend's." Dylan started, his voice firm. "I borrowed it is all." And Louis knew it was Harry's. He knew before he asked, he could smell the man on it. He remembered it being draped over his bare shoulders. The apartment smelled like the cigarettes the man smoked for fuck's sake, he knew.

He didn't know he was leaving until Niall called for him. He didn't stop walking though either. Even though he'd finally spoken to someone for the first time since the incident he didn't stop walking.

 

≫≫≫

 

He walked and he walked. He found himself looking for Harry, stumbling into their late night bouts on aching feet. He didn't find the man though. He walked until he was in familiar territory. He took the same route Harry had taken him down countless times to the loft.

He took deep slow breaths before knocking. What was he even doing? He had no right to be there. Harry was free to fuck whoever he pleased, but it still hurt. God, it fucking hurt.

When the door swung Louis deflated a little. "Princess!" Zayn exclaimed when he caught the sight of the boy. His eyes were bloodshot and low, but his smile was wide. He stepped back to let Louis in.

The loft as always accompanied a few people, Zayn's friends probably. They looked just as hazy as the gorgeous man did. And okay maybe just showing up unannounced wasn't the best idea. He turned back to Zayn who looked at him expectantly.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, princess?"

"Where's Harry?" His voice wasn't as strong as he wanted it to be.

"Not here." Zayn waved one of his friends over, while digging in his pockets and throwing things onto the kitchen counter. Louis watched the same girl from before, stumble over with a guy trailing her heels. "He's at the shop, the car's being wonky."

When Harry wasn't fucking or reciting poetry, he was at the this shit little auto shop that he loved dearly. Louis had only learned of the stop by accident. The man had let it slip and well he could take it back. It was a piece of him he hadn't meant to share, but Louis had it. Held it tight too.

Zayn rolled his at Jamie, snatching the card she held out to him and shooed her away. Louis watched him roll a bill precisely in his fingers and get frustrated when it wasn't way he wanted it.

"Roll this for me, will you?" Zayn reached over the counter, tossing the money towards the boy. He rolled it with ease as Zayn pulled a little baggie from another pocket. The contents, small and white poured from the bag the man opened.

"What've you got there?" Louis asked when handing the bill back.

Zayn's smile changed then when carded through the substance. It was subtle, Louis wouldn't have seen it if he hadn't known the man. It turned darker, mischievous.

"Special K." Louis watched as he put one end of the bill to the drug and the other to his nose. He should've left after that. After the snort, after he learned Harry wasn't there. But he didn't.

"Can I have a hit?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Having** a hit meant doing a line, and doing a line meant doing multiple lines. He wanted to dance, Louis did as the bass from a stereo somewhere within the loft pounded, but his world was so spinny and wobbly that he simply laid with his head in Jamie's lap.

She was surprisingly quite pretty. Light freckles were spattered across the tops of her cheeks and dotted her nose. Louis found himself reaching up to touch the little dots and Jamie giggled. Her wave of short fiery hair had begun to fall in her face.

A light sheet of sweat coated her skin with a quiet sheen, and Louis wondered why he wasn't also sweating. They had taken the save stuff, he believed. What had he taken again? Special K? Like the cereal? He didn't get it. That stuff was supposed to make you feel good, healthy and all.

Don't get him wrong he felt good, all dreamy and light, but spinny. He concluded that the spinnies were no good, but the dreamy was great. Special K was such a shit name though. Mystical K was better, or Magic K. Yeah, he liked those a lot more. It needed to be grand, the name. Not just special.

"Jamie." Louis hummed, reaching up to tug at her red locks. "Have we got anymore Magical K stuff?" His words were slurring together into a heap of unintelligible ones and Jamie only frowned in return.

"What?" She said, drawing herself down closer to the boy's mouth.

"K, Jamie!" He huffed, slightly irritated this time like he was talking to a child. He couldn't stay mad at her though because she was so pretty and so close to him. He could feel the warmth of her breath fan against his face. "You know, the mystical stuff."

"Oooh." The girl dragged the word with a laugh. "I don't have any, princess, but Zayn might."

Why did they all call him Princess? Surely they knew he wasn't one, if anything he was a prince. They needed to know that, so he promptly told Jamie that he indeed was prince.

"Jamie." He said again, interrupting her ramble about how he couldn't possibly be a prince—which he definitely was. He ran his fingers against her cheeks again, and then snatched them away as if the freckles would disappear when he touched them. This caused Jamie to giggle again and Louis giggled too.

He kinda wanted to kiss her, but he also wanted to dance. He decided on dancing first. He tried to push himself from her lap, but the dizzy spinny wobblies knocked him back down. That pushed a bark of laughter from his chest, then he tried again. He managed, but with a bit of Jamie's help.

Although she wasn't much help as she has a small case of the wobbly spinnies herself. He urged for her to dance with him, and she only obliged after a bit of begging.

Dancing was not a good idea. Jamie was a blur of red and dots and pretty. He closed his eyes in hopes of the world staying still again, but it only moved faster than ever. He tried to reach out for the girl, pulling her close to steady his world, but he missed.

She was talking he thought, or maybe she wasn't. The music was talking, or there just were more people in the loft now. Where was Harry? Had he joined the party too? He pulled whatever blur of color and sound close to him and planted his lips against it. Them. Against them.

It took him a couple of tries to kiss actual lips and then he only frowned when they weren't Harry's. They were Jamie's though and that was okay. She was pretty. After kissing her though he decided he didn't want to kiss her again because she wasn't Harry. He wanted to kiss Harry, so he made it his mission to find Zayn.

God, he was pretty too. Everyone was so pretty there. Louis was pretty himself, Harry had told him so. The thing with him though was that he held secrets. Secrets that made his insides ghastly and somber to the point that he didn't even match the pretty outside anymore.

He walked slow because his feet were having trouble communicating with his brain, they were on two completely separate wave lengths. When he tripped he sort of just closed his eyes accepted that he was falling, but he didn't fall.

"Easy there, princess." A voice he recognized said, as he steadied the boy again.

"Zayn!" He exclaimed. His eyes bright when he brought a hand to the man's face. "I was looking for you."

"Well you've found me, haven't you? What do you need?" He needed lots of things, but settled on just telling Zayn one of them.

"Harry." He whined. "Where is he?"

"Don't know, princess. He should be home soon though. Why don't you wait for 'im upstairs?"

The stairs were that of an obstacle course for Louis. He wasn't the best at walking up stairs sober, nonetheless high off his ass. So Zayn helped, but he was much like Jamie to the effect that his help only went so far when he was out of it himself.

When they reached to top and Harry's "room" the man let Louis topple onto the bed unceremoniously. He sighed heavily and rolled about the sheets. He hadn't even heard Zayn's quiet instructions to just "wait here". Instead he engulfed himself in the bedding, it smelled just like Harry. Earthy and woodsy with the subtle hint of nicotine.

He wanted the real thing though. He wanted to feel the rough fingers that roamed his skin countless times dig bruises into his hips. His skin already warm and a bit sweaty heated from the thought. He rolled to his back then and stared at the ceiling. The world was spinning again, and he didn't even try to steady it.

He wanted Harry to spin with him now, to get dizzy with him. He waited for what felt like hours in the bed that smelled like everything he needed in that moment.

He thought about Johannah briefly. If she was okay, or even alive. He hadn't seen her in so long. He wondered if she was spinning too. He tried to push her away then because with Johannah came other things. That house and the drugs and the men and Thomas.

The spinning intensified and he needed it to stop. Holy shit, he needed it all to stop. He needed more Special K or whatever Jamie had to stop the spinning, to dull the pain. He pressed his fingertips to his eyes and buried himself in the covers, all the while muttering a strangled chorus of "stop stop stop" and then—

"Louis?" He heard. It broke through the madness and the spinning. He opened his eyes, and God he could've cried right there and then.

Even though his world swayed and spun he saw Harry there. His unruly hair was tamed with a bandana and his eyes a quiet storm of pale green.

"Harry!" He cried. "My stud." He tried to pull himself up, but only fell back into a fit of giggles. "You're here. Zayn said you'd be here, but I didn't believe him. You're here!"

"Louis—What? What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in weeks."

Louis nodded, grasping onto Harry to simultaneously steady himself and pull the man closer.

"I know, but you've been okay. Haven't you, stud? You've had other me's." The boy angled himself so he was nearly on top of the man now.

"What are you—"

"Dylan, right?" Harry's mouth opened then closed, seemingly lost for words. "I found your jacket." Louis continued, pressing open mouthed kisses against the man's neck. "It smelled like you, but he said it was his."

"Pretty boy, I—"

He climbed completely on the man's lap then. "Does he know you fuck me too?"

"Louis, Jesus—Are you high?" Harry said, pulling back to get a good look at the boy.

"Like mother like son, right?" He threw Harry a goofy grin, and nipped at his jaw. He let nimble fingers roam beneath the man's shirt, his scent wrapping around them both.

"Louis!" Harry pushed him away onto the bed roughly. "Listen to me, what did you take?" The boy only pouted, making grabby hands for the man. All he wanted to do was spin now, didn't Harry get that?

"K, The magical kind. The spinny kind."

"Louis, try to remember what it was. Please? For me?" Anything for you. So Louis actually pondered for a minute, and it came back it him.

"The cereal! Special K." He watched Harry run a few fingers through his curls and a hand down his face. His pretty face. So so pretty.

"Ketamine? Goddammit, Louis. How much did you take? Do you remember?"

"Nooo." Louis whined, pulling the man to him now. "No more questions. Spin with me now."

"No, Louis. Stop." Harry said, taking the boy's wrists in his hands.

"Why?" Louis barked. "He didn't stop when I asked." Harry tilted his head quizzically at that.

"What? What are you—"

"He didn't stop." Louis repeated. "And I begged, but he didn't stop and I still feel him." He whispered the last part. Fresh waves of tears has begun to fall from his eyes and crashed over his cheeks, but he looked up at Harry and smiled one of the brightest smiles he had in awhile. "But you're here now. Make it better, spin with me."

"Louis, I—"

"Spin with me." He begged Harry, digging his fingernails into the hands that enclosed his wrists. "Spin with me."

Louis broke down then, strangled sobs clawed their way from his throat, angry and raw. He collapsed against the man, tears snot and all.

Harry mumbled quiets "shhh's" and "it's okay, you're alright now" to the boy, but he didn't let up. The sobs racked his body and shook his bones and he was on an endless loop of raspy "spin with me's".

He cried until his world stilled in Harry's arms. He cried until he didn't want to spin anymore.


	13. Chapter 13

**Louis** had had his fair share of waking up in strangers' beds, but he didn't mind this one seeing as it wasn't as strange as he thought. The light streaming in from the windows poured against the duvet with stray rays slithering about the floor.

He basked in the pale orange glow for a few glorious fleeting moments before he rolled over to the empty side of the bed that couldn't have been empty for too long as it was still warm. The events of the night before were blurred, but one could only conclude that they anything but good.

He climbed out of the plush, bare feet colliding with the cold tile. He was still dressed in same clothes he arrived in, so he hadn't fucked anyone thankfully. At least he hoped not. His boots were on the floor at the head the of the bed. He shoved into them and made his way down the stairs.

It was different world to the loud blur of noise and color the boy had seen before. The living room was empty except for a few stray plastic cups and overturned trash. The smell of coffee was strong in the air and Louis went to follow it, but found Harry instead. He was stirring coffee the color of burned umber when he looked up at Louis.

"You want some?" He asked and Louis nodded, hesitantly.

Harry pulled a multicolored mug that was chipped at the rim down from the cupboard. He let a good amount slosh into the cup before setting it in front of Louis. He doesn't bother adding sugar or even asking the man for creamer, instead he took a sip and let the liquid burn his tongue and scorch his lungs on the way down.

He thought it was similar to cigarettes in that aspect. A dull burning pain that not only relaxed, but numbed the senses. Why smoke when you could just drink good old black Colombian coffee? Louis was willing to let the silence engulfed them, but Harry opted to speak again.

"You were fucked up last night, Louis. Like severely. Since when do you take fucking ketamine?"

"Since when you do care?" Louis snapped back, staring down at his coffee. He wished he added creamer now, so he could've watched it make little galaxies in the cup.

"Oh, don't even pull that shit with me. You know I care about you."

"Do you?" He laughed, but it was laced with ice. "You care about Dylan too then, huh?" Harry was silent for a considerable moment, he even took a long swig of his own coffee before speaking.

"Dylan and I used to fuck, sure. I met him a while back when he brought his shit car to the shop. We haven't fucked in months though. Jesus, the last person I touched was you, pretty boy. He's Zayn's friend too, you know? He came over a couple nights ago just to hang and he left with my jacket. I didn't even know."

"I-I didn't know that." Louis said, honestly.

"Why would you? You just drop off the face of the earth for weeks, and then what? Just pop over here? Get high off your ass? Demanding for me apparently, Zayn said you did anyway. You look sick, you're so small. Smaller than you already are. I could fell your hips bones when you cried in my arms last night."

Louis looked up then, mortified. "Cried? I cried? Why?"

"You told me things, Lou." Harry rounded the corner of the island and broke the boy's space. "I don't think you meant to tell me, but if someone hurt you—"

"No." Louis' voice was watery and he did push Harry away this time. "I gotta go. Just forget I said anything."

"Louis, don't." But he's already at the door. He didn't have his jacketed, but he needed to go. To run.

"Stop." Harry said, and he's at the door too. His palms were flat against the steel, arms on either side of the boy's head and Louis breaks again. He crumbled with the same heavy sobs as last night, but Harry catches him. He let the boy cry and cry and cry just as he did before.

He didn't talk much when he finished and Harry hadn't expected him too. Instead of demanding to leave he asked the man for a ride home. Home home and Harry agreed.

The ride was silent apart for the low notes from some band Louis didn't know and the sound of his own deep breaths. He didn't know why he wanted to go home again. The lights were off and Johannah wasn't there, but he needed to go. He needed to not want to die every time he saw the place.

He sneezed a total of four times on the ride, and Harry frowned, pointing at the glove compartment. "There's tissues in there. Maybe a spare Benadryl too. Take one, will you?" When he goes to open it, a pile of brown fast food restaurant napkins fall to his lap. He almost managed laugh when he thought about all he and Harry's late night trips to burger joints after good fucks.

He pushed the laugh and most of the napkins back in, but a glint of silver caught his eye. He moved the napkins and wayward papers aside and holy shit. He pulled a sleek silver nine millimeter pistol from the mess, and twirled it around in his fingers.

"What the fuck, Harry?" He said with wide eyes.

"What is there no Bena— Shit." He glanced over at the boy with the gun. His gun. "I forgot that was in there. Put it back."

"Why do you have it?"

"I—It's for protection. At the shop."

"Why do you need a gun at a fucking auto shop?"

Harry sighed, he thought about just ignoring the question. Taking the gun from the boy and pretending he never found the thing, but he sighed and spoke.

"Not everything that comes out of the shop is legit, pretty boy."

Louis looked back at the gun then Harry and laughed. "So what? You guys run a fucking chop shop? Sell stolen parts and shit?"

"Louis—"

"Have you ever killed somebody before?"

"Jesus, No, Louis. God." The man's knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel and Louis looked at the gun again. He stuffed in back the glove compartment without a word. He didn't say anything until they pulled up at the boy's house.

"Can you uh, wait? This won't take long."

"Yeah, sure. Go on, I'll still be here." Louis nodded at him for a long while before getting out. He thought going in the house would be easier after the first time, but it wasn't. That old cat wasn't around which made the place seem even more bleak.

There was another notice on the door for more bills, he assumed. He couldn't pay them, not even with all the picks he did. He didn't want come back to this to stay, but he wanted somewhere for Johannah to be. His grandmother had left the place in such good condition, and he couldn't just lose it.

He went to enter, but his name was called. He was sure it was in his head, but then he heard it again. He turned and there stood Cecilia. Her dark hair was pulled into two plaits that fell around her shoulders, and she was bundled in a coat that it wasn't cold enough for. Her face was solid, and her jaw was fixed. Not in an angry way, just a hopelessly lost one.

"Where've you been?" She asked from the bottom of the stairs. Louis shrugged uneasily, and wrapped a restless arm around himself.

"Around, you know. Works been busy." He lied. Her gaze is still hard and solid and icy, so he smiled. "You look good, Lia."

"You look like shit."

"I know."

"Where've you been, Louis? I've been coming around here almost everyday. Your mom's been gone. No one has seen either of you in weeks. You haven't been at work either because I went. They said you stopped showing up, so they let you go."

Why did everyone suddenly care so much? No one gave a shit about him or his mother before. She was just the common druggie and he was just a boy that wore skirts to them.

"Jesus, I've been around, Li. Just trying to get my shit together."

"Trying to get your shit together?" She repeated, coming up the steps. The fire broke through the ice of her stare then. "You don't even go to fucking school, Louis. You're 17 and nearly close to graduating and you haven't been to fucking school in months. I'd give anything to have a brain like yours, you know? Eidetic memory is a rare thing to have, and you waste it! How can you be so stupid?"

"Fuck you, Lia!" He spit back, the fire roaring in him too. "I didn't ask for it, the stupid memory shit. I don't even want it! I didn't ask my mother to be a fucking drug addict and I didn't ask for my fucking father to leave, but it's the hand I was dealt! So yeah, I'm figuring shit out and fuck you for not getting that."

He saw Harry step out of the car, concern riddling his face, but Louis just raised a hand signaling for him to step back.

"You don't think I get that?" She was hurt as she said it. Louis could hear it in her voice, could feel it in the air. She was holding something, and he didn't realize it until she dropped it at his feet. It was an envelope, a couple actually. Big and heavy as they made a little thud when they dropped. "I applied to a few school for you. Sent out your SAT scores, wrote you an essay. Good luck, Lou. I hope you figure shit out."

She left in a flash, slipping down the steps in a blur. Louis stomped a foot frustrated with himself, and everything else. He gathered up the envelopes in shaky arms and followed her path down the steps. The waves in his head were coming back with a fury, but they never really left just calmed. The calm before the storm, he supposed.

He dropped the envelopes on the dash when he climbed back in the car, hot tears make a home at the edge of his cheeks. He went back to the glove compartment for tissues to wipe at them.

"You okay?" Harry asked, finally breaking that awfully choked silence.

"Yeah, I'm good." He balled up the tissues in his hand and goes to close the glove compartment, but the gun was just sitting there sparkling and waiting. He picked it up again, getting a good grip on it in his free hand. He thought back on a thing Harry said a long time ago about how good he was at pick pocketing, how he was a natural.

"Were you serious?" Louis asked, his eyes never left the gun.

"About what?"

"After we did that really good pick, you said I could go on to bigger things. Were you serious?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, you can. You have the skill for it. I mean you're pretty new to all, but you're manipulative. Kind of heartless in the best way possible. You could take whatever you wanted without even batting an eye."

Harry pulled away from the curb, and the silence fell again. Louis could pay the bills. Get Johannah some proper help, rehab maybe. Hell, maybe he could even go to school. He looked at the gun in his hands again, and thought of the waves and Cecilia and his father and Thomas. He cocked the pistol then and looked at Harry with a grim smile.

"Okay, let's do it then."


	14. Chapter 14

**"You** nervous?" Harry asked over the rim of his beige coffee mug. Louis raised an eyebrow as he forked in more waffle. He really liked The Diner no matter how pretentious it was. Johnny Cash wafted through the air, weaving its way around the chatter and smell of freshly cooked bacon.

Louis shook his head. "No. Why would I be?" It was a lie, and Harry knew it because he himself was nervous. He sipped his coffee again. It was dark and bitter, just the way he liked it.

"Because I just taught you how to use a gun not even an hour ago." He did and Louis was definitely nervous.

They had driven to any empty field behind a long abandoned shoe factory. It was high with yellowing grass and spattered with weeds that tickled Louis' shins. The man had set up a makeshift shooting range with empty bottles and cans and whatever other garbage he could find.

Louis only rolled his eyes and asked why they didn't just go to the junkyard as it was a better shooting range. I don't want bring this chaos to my place of peace and solitude, pretty boy. There's enough chaos as it is, I need my solace. And that was that.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Harold. What does the placement of my feet have to do with shooting?" He had sighed, exasperated. The gun felt so heavy in his hands, and the cold air whipped against his bare legs with a vengeance.

Harry chuckled, lifting the boy's arms back into the proper position. "It's about your stance, pretty boy. Now c'mon, let's get this over with, alright? I'm starving."

"I won't be worried about my fucking stance if I have to shoot somebody. I don't wanna shoot somebody, Haz. I don't wanna fucking, I-I—"

"Hey." Harry said, soothingly. He pressed his lips to Louis' swallowing the boy's nerves. "It's alright, baby. You won't have to shoot anybody. It's just a precaution, okay? Just if we get in a jam. But I won't let it come to that. I got you, alright?"

Louis picked over more waffle, pushing it aside to have a swig of his juice. "And I did good, didn't I? Knocked down nearly all the bottles after the second go around."

Harry glanced at the waitress that walked past, carrying her platters high. He should've gotten something to eat. He was fucking hungry, but he supposed he'd do better doing what they were about to do on an empty stomach. "I didn't say you weren't a good shot. I just asked if you were nervous."

"A bit." Louis admitted with a nod. "But you got me, right?"

"Yeah, I got you." Louis, satisfied with that dug back into his waffles. They weren't as good the second time around, but they were waffles so they'd do.

"You know," Harry started, looking around carefully. "We could take this place."

"Wha'" Louis mumbled around the waffle, looking around too. "This place? You wanna pull a Pulp Fiction in here or something?"

"We could. I mean they haven't got any high tech security, and they just get reimbursed for the shit we take. They've got insurance on this place, no money out of their pockets."

Louis pondered that for a second, eyeing the place carefully. He liked it, the stupid uniforms the jukebox. He liked it all. "I like this place. It's where we first met, you know? I couldn't step foot in here again if we robbed it."

"Yeah, I remember." Harry sighed after a minute. "Alright. So not this place, but let's put a pin in diners, yeah?" And Louis did just that, sticking an imaginary pin in the air with a grin and Harry couldn't help but lean over and kiss him.

"C'mon, let's go." The man said, flipping a couple bills onto the table. And they did. Louis' boots kicked up dust when they were outside, a little cloud of orangish brown circling the damp air.

"The liquor store is right across the way." Harry said firmly when they were back in the car. He peeled off his leather jacket and replaced it with a nondescript black one. He pulled on a pair of thin black gloves and tossed a smaller pair to Louis. "We don't fuck around, alright? Empty the register, the safe too if they have one."

"What about customers?" Louis pulled on his gloves too, then dug around in his pocket. He pulled out a lollipop, and unwrapped it carefully before sticking the red candy in his mouth.

"If there are any, you keep 'em on the floor. Get them to give up their wallets too if you can."

"Of course I can." Louis grinned. That was the last smile Harry saw too as the boy had pulled his mask over his head. It was black with a ghost skull printed on it. The only hole it possessed was the one for Louis' mouth. There were little mesh bits where his eyes were, so he could see out and they couldn't see in.

Harry pulled a dark beanie low over his curls and wrapped his half skull bandana around his nose and mouth. He slipped on his favorite mirrored aviators too. When they were covered, all tattoos and identifiable features and markings hidden, Harry pulled over to their mark.

His gun sat safely tucked in his jeans at the small of his back. He'd had gotten the boy one of his own, another nine millimeter that was a simple black. Louis toyed with it before leaning up and tucking it in his waistband.

"You ready?" Harry asked, his voice a bit muffled through the fabric.

"Yeah, I'm ready." The boy leaned in, taking the candy out of his mouth and pressing his lips against Harry's—or where he thought they would be through the fabric.

Every nerve in Louis' body raged. Completely raw and fired with fear. He was gonna do this. They were gonna do this. There was no turning back now.  
Harry went in first, and then Louis. The boy flipped the open sign over to closed and they both pulled out their guns.

"Alright, everybody get on the fucking ground, yeah?" There was a low but very prominent dominance in Harry's growl that was tinged with amusement and made Louis skin tingle. "This, my friends, is a hold up!"

Customers scattered, dropping to the dirt caked linoleum without much protest. Louis kept the hand with the gun on the people littering the floor and the other twirled the lollipop in his mouth lazily.

Harry walked over them carefully, pointing the gun at the woman behind the counter. There was a gun, he noted leaning lazily against the shelves behind the women. It was big and heavy looking. A shotgun, he guessed. He could see her going for it and leaned close, pressing the cool steel against her brow. She had shaggy blonde hair that was graying at the roots.

"Go for that gun or the silent alarm, and I'll blow your fucking head off." He promised, coolly. "Ain't that right, baby?"

"That's right." Louis piped up around the candy. His nerves had slowly begun to dissipate. "He'll blow it clear off, love. I'd do what he asks."

"Empty the register." The man said, pulling a couple black garbage bags he stashed in the jacket from one of the pockets. "Put it all in here. And nobody be a fucking hero, alright? Or my boy over there will show up what happens to heroes."

Louis, who was nearly giddy with adrenaline, waved the gun wildly. "Mhm. I will. Cell phones out, wallets too. Can't take any chances with you lot, can I?" He actually skipped like a little kid, gathering up the wallets and tucking them into a bag of his own.

He stopped when he saw a guy, probably only a few years old than him typing out something on a phone that was poorly hidden. He gave him three swift kicks to the ribs with the toe of his boots.

"Oi!" He tsked, bending down so that he was eye level with the guy. "You've got a bit of trouble with listening, haven't you?" He snatched the phone away, letting it fall again and crushing it under his boot. The glass shattered beneath his feet and skittered across the floor. "A phone won't be the next thing I'm bashing with my boot, understand?" He skipped away when the man nodded.

"Well empty it!" Harry's demanding when Louis turned back to him. He was shaking his guy at the woman who only held her hands tight to her chest in return.

"I d-don't have the key. You can only open the safe with the key. Don't hurt me, please. I can't open it, don't—"

"Listen." Harry interrupted, gently. He's an understanding man, he really is. He tucked a strand of her dirty blonde behind her ear. "I don't want to hurt you, but if you don't conjure up a fucking key I won't have a choice, will I?"

"Honey!" Louis singsonged, fixing his gun on a girl that laid scantily clad against the floor. "I'm getting impatient."

"You hear that?" Harry raised his eyebrows at the woman. "My boy's getting impatient. You won't like him when he's impatient. How about we get that thing open, huh? What do you say, I look away for a second. Let you open it with that key you don't have, hm? But if it isn't open within the next minute I won't hesitate when putting a bullet right between those pretty baby blues, okay?" Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, but she made no effort to move.

That was okay though, Harry liked a challenge. "Count her down for me, will you, baby?"

"I could." Louis tilted his head, like he was contemplating before he fixed his gun back on the guy who he'd kicked. "Or you, Mr. Hero. Why don't you count her down?" The guy was nursing his bruised ribs. He looked up at Louis with ice in his eyes.

"Fuck you." He spat, and Louis giggled.

"It wasn't a question. Fucking do it!" He cocked the gun and the guy shuttered.

"A-Alright, Jesus. Alright. Fifty nine." He started, and Harry tapped the gun against the women forehead.

"Times ticking, sweetheart."

"Just open it!" The scantily clad girl begged in a sob. Louis fixed his gun back on her, frowning beneath his mask.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" There was a mass of screams and shouts and counting, and Harry had had e-fucking-nough. Then there was a click. The woman bent down with the garbage bags, stuffing any money that was left with the rest. When she rose she stuffed the bags into Harry's free hand with her head down.

He smiled against the fabric, and tapped the steel against her face once more. "Good job. See? Didn't even have to hurt anyone. C'mon, baby. Let's blow." He backed away slowly, his gun still on the woman in case she got ballsy.

Louis, keeping his bag tight to his side and his gun ready, he opened the door. He slipped out first, holding it open for Harry until he did the same. They hauled it for the car when they were out, clouds of dirt and dust trailing their feet.

"Holy shit!" Louis squeaked when they were in the car again, ripping off his mask. Harry peeled out of the lot with ease, the tires squealing in their departure.

"I know." Harry nodded. "Holy shit." He was shaking, Louis noticed. It was subtle, he wouldn't caught it if he didn't know Harry the way he had. He tugged at the bandana until it fell from around the man's face, and brushed gloved fingers against his jaw.

"You're okay, we're okay. We did it. I can't believe it either, but we did it, Stud. You and me." He took the hand Louis pressed against his jaw and brought to his lips, kissed it softly and held it for awhile.

"Yeah, baby. You and me. We fucking did it."

 

≫≫≫

 

The liquor store was only the beginning of their spree. They took on more liquor stores, diners too. Even convenience stores. They were good. Better than good, they were great. Nearly legends.

Louis was sitting with his feet in Zayn's lap and his head in Jamie's, counting out a wad of cash for the rent. He thought he'd chip in since he was practically living with the boys now. Jamie kinda lived there too. She was more or less Zayn's girlfriend, most of the time anyway.

Harry sat in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette. He was in charge of storing the money they took in safe places, and getting rid of the extras shit that came with all wallets they snatched along the way. He cut up credit cards and IDs, shredded business cards or anything else that was leftover.

They were watching preseason football practices when it was interrupted by the news. A woman with skin the color warm coffee was speaking, and there was a "breaking news" header just below her.

"It's just in that there has been yet another robbery just outside of Auburn City. It was reported that the patrons and staff of Big Ben's Diner in Cedar Creek were held at gunpoint by two masked and armed men. There were no fatalities or even injuries reported, however the two made away with all the money the diner possessed."

"They're talking about us again, stud!" Louis called from the couch. There was a picture of masked Louis and Harry on the screen then.

"These men are armed and dangerous, and still at large." The women continued. "If you have any information on these men or the robberies, please call Crime Stoppers national tip line." She rattled off a number quickly, and then reassured that they'd be redirected their regularly scheduled program.

"You're proper criminals now." Jamie said, carding her fingers through Louis' hair with a grin. He grinned back just as wide.

"I know, it's weird." He admitted. "Easy now though, not as scary as the first time."

"You look badass with a gun, princess." Zayn added. He was rolling a blunt with slow finesse as he said it.

Louis rose from the couch, one of Harry's shirts hung loosely off his frame. He was gaining weight again which was good, almost looking like his old self.

"Haz is the badass." He said, easily. He wandered his way into the kitchen with a shy smile. "I'm just his trusty sidekick."

"Sidekick?" Harry snaked his arms around the boy's tiny waist. "You? Never." There was a cloud of smoking wafting up around them, seeping into the high ceilings. Louis nuzzled himself into the man's chest with a content sigh.

"When are we gonna hit another place?" He mumbled against the cotton of Harry's shirt.

Harry sighed, long and hard before speaking. "I was thinking that we take a break, wait until the media stuff dies down." Louis knew that that was for the best. They needed a break and Harry only looked out for their best interest, but he didn't want to stop. God, the rush he got, the money they got, no way he was ready to stop.

"Haz." He whined, nuzzling himself deeper into the man's chest. "I don't want a break. Just one more place, yeah? And then we'll take a really long break. Won't hit anywhere until Christmas."

Harry laughed, pressing chapped lips against the boy's fringe. "Nope. We need a break, love. Don't need the law to be on our tails, do we? We chill out, just a couple weeks. A month at the most, and then we do a big heist. Our last heist."

They joked under the dark of night after one of the first for few robberies they had done about doing a big one. A huge one that would have them set for life.

"You mean it?" Louis asked, pulling himself away to look up into quiet storms of green. His own eyes, a piercing blue as clear as crystal were wide and sparking.

"Yeah, pretty boy. I mean it."


	15. Chapter 15

**Liam** hated cop shop coffee. It was always lukewarm and burnt, and yeah, okay maybe he had grown a bit too accustomed to the French Press stuff he had at home. Sue him. He built up this fantasy that after making detective the coffee would magically get better, but it didn't. C'est la vie.

There were perks though. There was a bump in his paycheck—a very minuscule bump, but a bump nonetheless—and he traded in the beat cop uniform for soft clothes.

None of that matter though, he didn't do the job for the perks or the shit coffee. He did it because cop was in his blood and his father's blood and his father's father's blood.

He thumbed through a report on a open and shut auto theft case, taking languid sips at the—terrible—coffee when knuckles rapped against the only clear spot of his desk.

"Payne, lieutenant's calling a briefing in the pen in five." Liam never made friends in the force easily seeing as he was a legacy around the place and legacies weren't wanted, but to Detective Francis Lowell he was just another cop.

Lowell was a seasoned detective with salt-and-pepper hair and slick easy grins. He'd taken on somewhat of a mentoring role with Liam when he started out on the beat, and when he made detective they became partners. The transition was easy enough. He closed his report, and downed the rest the coffee before falling into an easy stride with Lowell.

"Oh Christ, what the fuck is that, Payne?" Lowell mumbled around a bite of bear claw, gesturing to the tie that lay loosely around Liam's neck.

He looked down at the smorgasbord of colors and shapes, and shrugged. "My sister got it for me. It's festive."

"It's fucking stupid, you're the brightest thing in here."

"Doesn't sound like a bad thing, does it?" Liam asked, thoughtfully. The pen in the Commercial Robbery Unit was simply that, compact and rowdy with the musical stylings of impatient animals—cops, they're cops—in waiting for briefing. CRU was only part of the Criminal Intent Division, and Liam thought biding his time there was a good start as detective.

"Smith!" Lowell said, when Liam took a seat somewhere along the middle of the pack. The chair squeaked beneath him from age probably as the thing was older than him.

A woman with her deep honey colored hair tied back in a loose low bun turned with her brows raised at Lowell. Her soft clothes consisted of dark dress slacks and a cream button up blouse that sat beneath a regulation ACPD windbreaker.

"What?" She took a sip from a styrofoam cup of her own, frowning down into it afterwards.

"Payne's tie. It's shit, right? Looks like a melted Rubik's Cube." She grinned before flicking her eyes over to Liam, and let them settle there for a long minute.

"Nah." She started, taking another sip from her cup. "It's nice. Festive. Better than that puke rag you've got around your neck, Francis." She gestured to the deep green tie settled haphazardly against the man's chest.

"What does she know?" Lowell grumbled, taking a seat next to Liam. "Your tie's shit that's for sure." Liam rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. He liked Smith. Sophia. She was a good cop, and Liam could appreciate a good cop.

More officers settled in seats as the Lieutenant strolled in with her head held high, and her partner in tow. Lieutenant Marissa Tejada was a tall, lean woman with sharp eyes that took no bullshit. Her partner—Liam could never seem to remember his name—looked meek next to her, but somehow still managed to look hard and stoic.

"Alright, listen up." She started, taking her place in front of a board spattered with photos from previous crimes of the active case. "There's been radio silence of the front of those robbers nicknamed "The AC Bandits"—a stupid nickname in Liam's opinion—since the last robbery at Big Ben's Diner. And I need to know why."

There was a low rumble of chatter amidst the crowd, but Tejada held up a hand to silence them all. "They won't break for long as they're spree robbers, and we need to be a step ahead of them. Where will they strike next, and why've they taken a break for this long in the first place?"

"They've gotten a lot of media attention, Lieutenant." One of the officers in the front spoke up. "Maybe they're scared."

"Scared, I don't think so. You don't go waving guns at civilians if you're scared." Tejada explains, glancing at her board. "They've been careful as well. No one has been able to identify them, and they're cocky because of it. However taking breaks isn't in their MO. They're rapid in their heists, usually only weeks apart."

"They stay amongst diners and liquors stores, nothing bigger than that." Sophia put in, drawing Liam's attention. "Maybe they're running out of places to hit."

Tejada shook her head at that. "Unlikely. There's countless liquor stores and diners in the city, it's something else. They don't hit banks. Why? If it's the money they're after than why not go for a place that has four times as much as some diner?"

Liam perked up at that as he had his own theories. "Banks are high tech." He began, tugging at his tie. Eyes around the room settled on him uncomfortably, but he continued. "The security is much more complex than that of a diner or a liquor store. They could hit smaller banks, but they're only a team of two. They couldn't possibly pull it off. The break could be because they're assembling a team for a bigger heist."

Lowell nudged him then with a proud smirk, but Liam kept his expression neutral.

"That's good, Payne. It's not much, but it's something. We'll keep major banks in the city under extra surveillance. We need to be ready." She went on to assign surveillance duty to a few officers, before bringing her attention back to Liam. "Lowell, Payne. You'll go back to the last scene, and try to shake something out of the staff again. Identifiable markings, anything we can use."

"Yes, Ma'am." Liam said a nod, before looking over at Lowell who only sighed heavily as they all began to file out of the pen after being dismissed. He found himself looking for Sophia briefly then pushed it aside, he had a job to do.

"We won't get anything out of this." Lowell sighed. "Officers on the scene after it happened questioned staff and witnesses. Looked at hours of surveillance from security cams too. They came up with squat." He tossed the rest of his bear claw in trash as they strolled out of the precinct and into the late morning dew. "They're good, these guys. Cover their tracks well."

"Come on, Lowell. Have some faith, maybe we'll catch something they missed." Liam offered, optimistically.

"Yeah, maybe."

 

≫≫≫

 

Louis laid with bare legs against the hood of Harry's old Camaro when he got the call. Autumn winds whipped lazily at garbage strewn about the junkyard when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He wasn't going to answered at first as his head was in Harry's lap while he recited Plath.

He was content beneath the sun that was slowly slinking away against the backdrop of skies painted with streaks of the same rusty crimson as the leaves that left their temporary homes of branches to rest amongst the rumble of fall. But the buzzing only continued so he answered with a lazy, "yeah?"

"Is this Louis Tomlinson?" A voiced asked, the buzz of chatter was high behind it.

He nuzzled himself deeper into Harry's lap. "Depends on who's asking. What's this about?"

"Mr. Tomlinson, this Dr. McGillicuddy with Auburn Memorial Medical Center. Your mother, Johannah Poulston has had an accident."

His blood, much like his eyes, turned to ice. His muscles were glacier-like mounds for only a second before he jerked from the emerald eyed man's lap with a start. He stopped breathing for a moment, failing to push words from his mouth as his throat was clogged with thick clouds of emotional debris all whilst Harry eyed him curiously.

"W-what kind of accident?" His words were shaking and barely above a whisper. "Where is she? What's the address?" The doctor rattled it off, and decided to keep the details of Johannah's condition to a minimum until Louis actually arrived.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked finally. Louis was shaking, his body racked with fear and anxiety and tears had sprung to lost blue eyes and spilled over flushed cheeks. He wanted to run as it was his first and only instinct, but his feet refused. And Harry shook him gently until he spoke.

"She-I-I don't know. She's at the hospital, I don't like hospitals. She doesn't either. W-we hate them. When I broke my arm once we wait for it to get wrapped in a cast and then we bolted. Didn't even get discharged. We stopped at this c-candy store afterwards. She was okay then.  
S-she's not okay now. I don't-I—"

"Louis." Harry shook him harder then. "Baby, what happened? What hospital?" He mumbled the address, but not much else. Tears rained free in heavy heaps down his face. Harry helped him into the car, wiping at his tears before crossing the seat belt over him. He mumbled more, Louis did, but his voice was so far and distant that Harry had barely heard him.

The ride was filled with Louis silent sobs, and barely audible mumbles. He sobered quickly when they pulled into emergency. He stopped at the curb just outside the automatic doors that had EMERGENCY printed bold block letters, and Louis looked over at him.

"Go on." Harry insisted, gently. He reached over and wiped at the last few tears that had fallen against boy's pretty face. "I'm coming, just have to park. Go on, I'll find you." And so Louis went. He rushed inside with his bare legs and tear streaked face and heavy heart. The nurse at the desk didn't even flinch when Louis reached her with a jolt.

"Poulston. Johannah." He managed to push out. "I was c-called. Where is she?"

The nurse scanned a clipboard tentatively before speaking. "Ah yes, Poulston. She was moved out of emergency to a room up in the west wing, sixth floor. Room 615." He didn't bother thanking her, instead he jogged to a bank of glossy elevators and jabbed at the buttons until the doors came rumbling open.

Johannah may have been a mess and a shitty mother and probably didn't even love him at all, but she was his mother and he loved her far more than he let on. Irrevocably and unconditionally, and that wouldn't change no matter how hard he wanted it to. He shouldn't have left her. Everyone left her, and now she was probably leaving him.

He was scared when got to the sixth floor, physically terrified. His muscles were slowly turning back into those glacial mounds that he couldn't budge, but he willed himself too. Pushing the fear and the hurt and the guilt all aside.

The door was open. There was doctor holding some sort of tablet close, whilst murmuring something down to a nurse. His breath hitched when he saw Johannah, he couldn't stop himself from stepping inside. His legs had had a mind of their own once again.

She looked horrible. She'd lost a considerable amount of weight since he'd last seen her. The skin around her cheekbones was tight and sunken in. There were dark almost bruise-like circles around her closed eyes. Cords and wires of all sorts were connected to her, but she looked to be breathing on her own.

"Oh, mom." He said lowly, stroking at the hand that had had an IV tapped down to it. "What did you do?" She looked almost as small as he felt in that moment.

"You must be Louis." The doctor that stood only a few feet from the boy and his mother said quickly. He shooed the nurse away before speaking again. "I'm Dr. McGillicuddy."

"What happened to her?"

"She overdosed, Mr. Tomlinson." A somber expression fell over the doctor's face, his brow crinkling in something Louis knew to be pity. "She had taken a lethal amount of the generic form of hydrocodone bitartrate. Vicodin." Tears flowed freely again, but Louis pushed them away with shaky fingers.

"She was seizing when being brought in, but we managed to pump her free of the drugs. She is unfortunately comatose as of now, but breathing on her own. Her body will go through withdrawals whether she's conscious or not as she is still alive and a frequent drug user."

"Are you saying she might not wake up?" Louis asked, eyes glossy and lost struggling to focus on the doctor. He sighed again before speaking.

"It isn't guaranteed that your mother will wake as the trauma her body endured is severe, and I think you need to be prepared for that possibility, Mr. Tomlinson."

"But s-she's breathing on her own. She just looks like she's sleeping. She has to wake up." He didn't wipe the tears this time, and the doctor gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"My hopes are high that she will make a full recovery if she wakes, however you need to be ready for the possibility of that not happening, Louis."

He looked at his mother again, pressing shaky fingers over hollowed cheekbones. "She'll wake up."

"Is there someone I can call for you, so you won't be alone?" He didn't think we had alone as his mother was laying before him, but he briefly thought of Cecilia anyways. He pushed her away as he remember Harry was there somewhere, so he wasn't alone.

"N-no, thank you." He shifted to the doctor with his Johannah's limp hand in his. "Why wasn't I called earlier? She had to be in emergency for a least an hour when trying to revive her, right? And she already had her own room when I got here."

A nurse came back in then, whispering something to McGillicuddy. "You're her second emergency contact, Mr. Tomlinson. Not her first."

"I'm not?" He frowned. "Then who is?"

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that information, I'm sorry. If you'll excuse me for a moment."

"Wait!" Louis said, climbing from the bed as Dr. McGillicuddy was exiting. "I'm her son, you have to tell me. Who is it?" The doctor was already gone though with the nurse on his trail. He sighed again letting frustrated tears mix with the ones already falling.

He climbed back into the bed with his mother, lying on his side to slot his small frame against her seemingly lifeless one. But it wasn't lifeless. She was still alive and breathing, so she had to wake up. She had too.

"I'm sorry for leaving you, mom." He mumbled against her cold skin. "I won't this time, I promise."


	16. Chapter 16

**Hospital** chairs were anything but comfortable, and Louis would know. This wasn't his first rodeo. The chairs were usually a rough mix of the hard, cold remnants of something that may have once been comfortable, but he'd truly never know.

The spongy softness the chairs' cushions once possessed could've easily slipped away along with the restless bodies that could never properly relax the seats anyway.

He had spent countless days in hospitals with Johannah, and he'd never gotten a comfortable chair until now. It upset him, the stupid chair. Hospital chairs weren't meant to be comfortable, because hospitals visits weren't comfortable. They were icy and frigid. And the halls, with antiseptic splashed against walls that were covered in bright flowery artwork, poorly masked the lingering scent of death. So fuck that chair, it wasn't fooling anybody.

Four days.

Four days he'd been at the hospital. He hadn't realized it had just that long as time had been slinking by so agonizingly slow in his own head that it all felt like one long continuous day. He stood at a bank of sinks in a restroom three, or maybe four floors down from Johannah's room, watching the mundane swirl of water circling a drain.

There was a private bathroom in his mother's room, but Louis never used it. He supposed the restroom away was the only place he wasn't plagued with the thoughts of her not waking.

And even as he tried to separate himself, the thoughts never really did cease. Not even while he watched the water wined its way around sparking silver and dive into its darkened descent. He shut off the sink then, and glanced up at himself.

He looked like a boy who spent a few sleepless nights in a hospital, to say the least. The half ringed circles beneath his eyes were a deep tired purple. His eyes themselves, usually a shimmering sapphire were rimmed and angry with red. He rubbed at them with fingers that took on a seemingly permanent tremor, trying to push the tired away with the sheer force of will.

He heaved a sigh that racked his entire body which was almost feather like before pushing away from the sink. If there was a quick gust of wind or even just a slight breeze he'd blown away without a thought.

He let his feet steer him from the restroom and back into the blunder of hospital halls. This floor unlike Johannah's was littered with people, bodies blurred into bright mounds of moving color. Nurses and doctors toting carts, gurneys, and the like breezed by with ease.

Louis' legs, still bare moved in slow sways, like he was wadding through deep pools of pudding. He opted for the stairs instead of the elevators this time around as they were always vacant, and he preferred being alone for the past few days.

He had sort of made Johannah's room his temporary home. It was littered with books—thanks to Harry—and blankets. The staff would bring him food too that he only denied, which led to them slipping him vouchers that he could cash in at the cafeteria. They'd bring him pillows and bedding, and even offered him a cot if he didn't find the chair to his liking.

He'd never gotten this kind of treatment at any other hospital he had visited, but his mother wasn't on her deathbed then. He sighed when stepping back into the room as Johannah laid as vegetative as she was before. He climbed into bed along side her, clutching a copy of an Edgar Allen Poe anthology in trembling fingers.

"Ready for another one, mom?" He breathed it out like it was some precious secret only meant for them two, and well, maybe it was. Dr. McGillicuddy had encouraged conversation, so Louis talked to her whenever he could. He flipped through the book with his free hand. Its spine was cracked and worn, pages creased from previous journeys.

Louis' grandmother always used to say that reading books was like going on journeys. She believed in folding corners and bending covers and circling lines. Harry did too as he had at least a third of the books' pages dog eared, and lines littered with yellow highlighter marks.

"Let's do a poem this time." He let the pages flutter for a good few moments before stopping on a dog eared page. "Ah, okay. A Dream Within A Dream." He'd read his fair share of Poe, but he hadn't recalled this particular poem. He let nimble roam against the highlighted lines.

"Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, thus much let me avow: you are not wrong who deem that my days have been a dream." The words kind of died off in his throat, singeing at his vocals cords.

A poem beginning with a farewell kiss to his beloved and conformation that his days had simply just been dreams couldn't possibly be something good for the boy to read, especially not in his current circumstances, but he kept reading anyway.

"Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, in a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream." And okay, he got it. Louis did. In a twisted way though as Poe's beloved was replaced with his mother. So as cynical as that was he related to Poe.

The time he spent with his mother—the good time anyway—had passed with an almost dreamlike rush. The early childhood moments that were blurred unexplainably so in a supposedly perfect memory could've just been dreams. That made sense. And now the days he spent with his mother while she lay lifeless flew by with dreamy ease too.

Although, he supposed that that was more like a nightmare. And the hope? He held onto it, but by a thread. He'd never say that out loud though, and that's where he and Poe differed. And, yeah, they differed even more as Poe believed that life as whole was just a dream encapsulated into another, and Louis just believed the good times were. At least they felt like they were.

"I stand amid the roar of a surf-tormented shore," He continued. "And I hold within my hand grains of the golden sand — How few! yet how they creep through my fingers to the deep, while I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp them with a tighter clasp? O God! Can I not save one from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?"

He let his fingers trail over the last few words, before snapping the book closed. The waves were back, rumbling loud now. Splashing over his thoughts much like the waves on Poe's shore, beating incessantly at the broken boy's broken thoughts. God, was Johannah just that fucking sand that slipped through Poe's fingers? Was her time just that fucking fleeting?

He tossed the book onto the stupid soft comfortable chair, because fuck that. He would keep that tight grip on the minuscule strands of hope that were barely clinging to his trembling fingertips, because he wasn't fucking Poe and life wasn't a dream within a dream.

He laid beside her then, intertwining his fingers into hers even though she wouldn't do the same. But he could've swore that she did. And okay, maybe he was officially losing it.

But he wasn't.

Her fingers weren't completely intertwined with his, but at least one was. And fuck, that's all he needed. He sat up with a start, trying to get a good look at her. Her eyes laid closed, but her fingers were still on his. He shook her gently, trying to push words from his throat.

"M-mom?" He said it in one of those gentle whispers again. "If you can hear me squeeze my hand." He waited. God, he waited. The seconds oozed by at a snail's pace, so he shook her again. "Mom, please." There was twitch and barely a squeeze, but it was there. He was out of the bed in seconds.

His feet moved faster than the rest of him as he screamed at anyone who was willing to listen. "She squeezed my hand! She's okay, she squeezed my hand!"

"Louis?" One of the nurses he'd come to know as Linda said carefully. She had a long sweep warm mahogany hair that fell just below her shoulder blades, and quiet jade eyes. "What's happened? Is Ms. Poulston alright?"

"Linda!" Louis pushed out in a rush, taking a hold of her hand. He practically dragged her back to Johannah's room with all the force he possessed. "She squeezed my hand! Come look at her please."

"Louis." She began slowly, nearly solemnly. "You have to understand that squeezes can be just a neurological respon—" She let herself trail off when she caught the hope that wafted through steely pools of crystal clear blue begin to dissipate just as quick as it came. "Okay. Alright, let's check on her."

His rambled chorus of "I shook her a little, and she squeezed me. She has to be okay, right? She'll surely wake up?" was an untidy woosh of rushed syllables as he pulled the nurse behind him.

"Just take her hand." Louis nearly begged when he took his place by his mother's bedside again, forcing Linda's fingers around hers. "Mom, come on. Squeeze her hand just like you did mine."

The silence was so heartbreakingly loud, submerging the boy in whirling pool of screaming nothingness. Linda sighed mournfully, her warm eyes riddled with an ugly pity that stabbed at the remaining slivers of something that may have been Louis' heart.

"Sweetheart, I don't think—"

"Just wait!" He snapped in out in a hiss, his shimmering eyes gone cold and flat. "Come on, mom. Please." Tears spilled over his cheeks without his permission, and that was it. He sort of snapped. "Goddammit, Johannah! Wake up! You miserable bitch, wake up! You can't just leave me here!" He thrashed against the bed, shaking at her lifeless shoulders. "Wake up!"

The rush of waves beating at his ears mixed with a nearly tangible silence rocked him to the core. He was so wrapped in himself and his mother that he hadn't heard Linda leave them. His screams held a haunting sense of déjà vu as they mirrored the ones he bellowed out when Thomas hurt him.

She was hurting him now, and it wasn't fucking fair. She couldn't just not wake up. His brain, his brilliant brain couldn't fathom the though. Hands grabbed at his forearms then, and for a split second he thought Johannah had awaken. She hadn't. Linda was back with a barrage staff pulling him away.

"No!" His broken sobs echoed loud throughout the room as he wriggling violently in their gasp. His eyes though, cool and blue and stinging with tears, never left his mother's. "Stop, let me go! Johannah, I know you can hear me!"

And then there was a flutter.

Johannah's bony fingers twitched along the mangled bedding. She stirred ever so slightly, before her eyes fluttered again. The boy broke free of the doctor's grasp with a fierce jolt, clambering up to the bed on legs that seemed to be made of jello. He perched beside her, afraid to put too much weight down as if she'd fall back into her slumber if startled even a little.

He stroked trembling fingers against her pale brow, a shaky humorless laugh slipped from his lips. "Mom?"

She stirred again, her eyes were squeezed tight like she was afraid to open them. Her mumbles were an unbearable mix of hoarse gravel, her words entangled with the rocks that clogged her throat.

"Mm," she uttered, barely audible. Tears sprang to the boy's eyes again. Good ones this time that swam in pools of echoing relief. The hope Louis held onto that was barely bigger than the grains of sand Poe tried desperately to keep in his grasp blossomed into gargantuan flowing fields of beige grain. He pressed a kiss to her brow, not in farewell, but in greeting.

"Mom. It's me, I'm here." He whispered it, like another precious secret for only them two to hold. She mumbled again, the gravel begging to grow louder through her chapped lips. Her eyes unhurriedly peeked from beneath the bruised skin of her eyelids, and there she was.

She blinked in what seemed like slow motion. Trying to get her bearings, Louis supposed. It didn't take long for recognition to settled upon her tired eyes when she got wind of her son, and it nearly broke him. A delightful break, a good break.

Until it wasn't.

"Mm." She mumbled again and he coaxed for her to continue. God, he wanted anything for her to say something, when she did though it broke the crumbed foundation he had barely begun to put back together.

"M-Mark."

She called out for _him_ , not Louis.


	17. Chapter 17

The bottom of that swimming pool Louis frequented had become his second home over the years. He was there before things had gotten just so bad. Before Harry, before the current mess with Johannah. Although it seemed that he had outgrown the pool, as it was more of an ocean now. And a place as daunting and vast as that one surely had to provide some sort of comfort, but it didn't.

He was drowning again.

The sounds of the doctors and nurses that had rushed in were muffled by the roar of water scraping at his eardrums. He slid out the room imperceptibly, wrapping arms that were draped in the dark thick material of a hoodie that belonged the man he was surely falling for around his middle.

It was a security measure, he supposed. Those arms, thin and frail, his only protection from a world as cruel and cold as this one. And if he was being honest, they did a piss-poor job of protecting him.

He found himself idly roaming the halls once more before deciding that the floor was as good a seat as anyway. He sat with his back promptly pressed against the cold concrete of the hall's walls. His arms laid draped over bruised bare limbs as he pulled his knees to his chest.

The world still turned and the Auburn Memorial's staff still swam atop the surface, breezing by while Louis drowned. His sobs had died down to tiny strangled hiccups that shook him like the tremor in his fingers had spread to the rest of him.

Johannah had called for his father inside of Louis himself. He didn't know why he expected anything else, but he had. He tried to push that away and dwell on the fact that she was awake and breathing, but he couldn't. God, why couldn't she just love him as unconditionally as he love her?

He felt another wave of tears threatening to round the shore when—

"Mr. Louis?" The blue eyed boy couldn't place that voice, but he knew it somehow. He glanced up through glassy eyes at a familiar mop of messy curls and dewy olive skin.

"Mateo?" Louis' voice sounded foreign to his own ears, kinda gravelly like Johannah's when she had first awaken. "What are you doing here?"

"My mom works here. She's a nurse, remember?" Mateo murmured it with a small smile and nonchalant shrug. He sported the same blazer he wore the time Louis had seen him at the park, and taken him to school. "Are you alright?" The little boy asked carefully. "It looks like you got caught in the rain this time."

Louis didn't get it that before when Mateo said something about it. And even though he hadn't been outside in days, the clear view from Johannah's room showed no signs of precipitation at all and it didn't that time at the park either. He got it now.

"Yeah, kid." Louis nodded, letting another one of those humorless laughs slip along with a few stray tears. He wiped at them angrily, because leave it to him to cry in front of a kid that was probably three times as strong as him. "I got caught in the rain this time, and it's brutal."

The boy sat beside him then, just like he had in the dewy grass back at the playground. "You know, my mom says this thing about storms. They catch you by surprise most times, and even when you are expecting them you still aren't ready. So instead of trying to control them you—"

"Exercise the art of patience, and respect the fury of nature." Louis finished, in awe. This kid was so far beyond his few years it almost frightened him, because he reminded Louis so much of himself. "Yeah, I know the quote. Did I tell you were an old soul?"

He nodded with another small smiles again. "Yeah. You and my mom." And as if on cue Linda came down the hall in her regulation nurses shoes and scrubs, frowning a bit.

"Teo? Jesus, boy I've been looking for you all over the place. What are you doing?" She reached a hand down to grab him up of the floor, noticing Louis' presence then. "Louis. Was he bothering you?"

"No, of course not." He said, quickly. "We're uh old friends." The woman nodded, not really sure what to make of that, but she hadn't had the time to dwell on it.

"Your mother is under a bit of medication, and we'll have to run some tests. She asked for you though, so come back whenever you're ready." He nodded, and she threw him another one of those pity smiles that made his heart hurt. "Come on, Teo. What did I tell you about wondering around and not telling me where you've gone. It's a big  
hospital—"

"Louis!" Mateo exclaimed, tearing from his mother's grip for only a second. "You're stronger than the storm, okay? You can withstand it."

Louis gave the boy a watery smile as they disappeared down the hall. He pulled his knees closer to his chest, letting chin rest atop them. He let the floodgates as fresh tears flowed with ease. He didn't know how his body was still able to produce tears.

Nonetheless he cried. He cried until the cacophony of broken wails and snotty hiccups fell silent. He cried until his shoulders stopped shaking and the tremor had left his fingers. He was tired now. Tired enough to pass right there on the death soaked floor, but—

"Hey." The only voice that could ever pull him out of the waves that plagued his mind was so close to him, he didn't think it was real. A mirage, it had to be.

But the strong hands with rough calloused fingers cupping his flushed, tear streaked face said otherwise. "Baby, are you alright? What's wrong?" Harry asked, in a low whisper. His voice was a life preserver tugging Louis free of impending doom. "Is she okay?"

"There was this book." The boy started between quiet hiccups, finally feeling like he could breathe again. "I read it back in eighth grade, maybe ninth."

"Pretty boy, what are you—"

Louis only continued, the little silent sobs gone, his voice was all ice. "It was called The Truth About Delilah Blue. I didn't get it then. A lot of it went over my head, even as smart as I was. But I get it now."

Harry didn't speak this time, because he knew Louis. The boy got like this when he was upset, he supposed it was a coping mechanism. His brain just spit out memories whenever he couldn't deal with or even properly process what was happening in the present.

"There's this bit that I understand now. It said, "There's a thing that happens to a child who grows up thinking her mother doesn't want her. That child can't help but hold this knowledge like a cavity way at the back of her mouth. It's ugly and tastes bad and convinces her she is unlovable to the core. For who could fall for someone whose own mother can't stick around? But instead of turning against her mother, the child reveres her.""

"Baby—"

"I'm unlovable, aren't I? I'm unlovable right down to my dirty rotten core, aren't I, Harry?"

"No." The man said firmly, forcing the boy to look at him. His eyes were a fiery storm of emerald, Louis could almost see his own reflected in them. "You listen to me, I mean it, Louis. You are not a reflection of her mistakes. You are one of the most amazing human beings I've ever met in my entire life, and you know what? Tough luck for her on missing out you."

"She asked for him." There was so much pain in those four words, Harry's heart nearly shattered. "I'm here and she asked for him."

"And that's her mistake. She's sick, baby. And she won't be okay until she gets the proper help, but that isn't your fault. Do you understand me?"

Louis nodded, scared if he spoke again he'd break. Harry mumbled a barely audible "come here" before scooping the boy up in his arms.

"Can you take me home?" Louis asked, his chapped lips dragging slowly against the man's skin. He hadn't needed to elaborate either as they both knew wherever Harry was was home for him and vice versa, so he just nodded down to the boy. His boy.

"Yeah, baby. I'll take you home."

 

≫≫≫

 

Harry managed to keep Louis away from the hospital for a day. A full day. Said day was a barrage of tears, baths, tea, and more tears. But Louis had his stud, and that was all he truly needed.

Zayn's smile was bright and his hug was bone crushing when Louis stepped in the loft. "We missed you around here, princess." He had mumbled into the boy's hair. Jamie was right behind him with a hug, and peppered him with kisses.

He could barely stand after it all, and Harry had no idea how he was standing after it all. The boy was so much stronger than he gave himself credit for, but when he couldn't stand any longer the man was there to catch him. They stayed in bed for most of their day as Louis hadn't gotten a proper wink of sleep in far too long.

He still didn't as he slipped from the sheets in midday with furtive ease—that didn't go unnoticed by Harry—to go sit at the windowsill in the man's room, watching autumn's leaves dance amongst the cool breezes before fallen along battered city streets. The man wrapped able inked arms around the boy's feeble waist before carrying him to the bath.

One of the many perks the loft had was that it possessed one of those claw foot bathtubs that Louis fell in love with all at once.

They sat in water that was going cold, Louis' back against Harry's chest while he rubbed small circles into the boy's supple thighs. It was one of the most, if not the most intimate act the two had partaken in that lacked any sexual element at all. The thing is Louis hadn't let anyone touch him in that way since Thomas.

And Harry knew that. Not definitively, but he knew that Louis had to have a large amount of trust seeded in the man for them to simply even bathe together. Harry decided in that moment that he'd never do anything to break that trust.

"I want to go back." Louis breathed, lowly. He let his fingertips graze at the surface of the water, so that little ripples spread out beneath his skin. He could hear the gleeful commentary of some sport's announcer blaring from the television in the living room.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Harry wondered, tracing haphazard hearts into Louis' skin. "You've barely gotten any sleep, love."

"I know, but she asked for me. She hasn't got anyone, but me." And that was that. "I wanted to talk to the doctors too. Maybe they could help me get her into rehab, because I can't go through this again, Haz. I can—"

"Shhh." Harry urged, bringing a hand to up to rub soothing circles into his stomach. "You're alright. If you want to go back we'll go back. Whatever you want, pretty boy." The silence that wrapped around them was eerily comfortable and squeezed at Louis' heart.

"Thank you." He said suddenly, tilting his head back to get lost in quiet green. Harry in turn carded wet fingers through the boy's fringe.

"For what?"

Louis shrugged, halfheartedly. "I dunno. For putting up with me, I guess." Harry brought his arms tight around Louis' middle comfortingly, so that he had no room to squirm.

"Putting up with you is one of my favorite things to do. You don't have to thank me for that, baby. Ever." And yeah, that was that.

Going back to the hospital a second time was more nerve racking than the first. Louis fidgeted with the loose threads that hung on the sleeves of the sweatshirt Harry loaned him. It was a worn burgundy thing that sported holes around the collar, but it smelled so much like the man he couldn't not wear it. Sure it was silly, but the garment gave him a sense of security. It made him feel safe.

Instead of going straight for his mother's room they made a beeline for the cafeteria because, "Maybe some tea will help to relax, pretty boy. You're shaking."

The eatery was settled at the ground floor, nuzzled between a gift shop and a pharmacy. He wouldn't eat as he appetite had long slipped away with his arrival, but the tea would surely calm him, so he went.

He found Harry crouched at a table alone, when he carried two khaki colored coffee cups back to the seating area. The man's long locks were pushed back by the same bandana he'd wear when working at the auto shop. He sat across from the man, pushing the second cup of unsweetened black coffee towards him. Harry thanked him with his eyes before taking grateful sips.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Harry asked over the top of his cup. There was a family at a table just behind their table. A woman not much other than Harry with deep bags circling her dark eyes clutched a wiggling toddler tightly in her lap. He wondered if her family was as broken as his.

"No, I think I should do it on my own." Louis nodded, taking a sip of his tea. The chai seeped into his bones warming him from the inside out. "But stay close please? I'll need you afterwards."

Harry reached across the table then, grabbing at the fingertips that peek through the sleeves of Louis'—his—sweatshirt. "Of course, I'm not going anywhere."

"Good." Louis said more to himself than to the man across from him. "Good." He glanced at the woman and her bright eyed boy again before leaning across the table to press his lips to Harry's. The kiss was sweet and gentle and not nearly long enough, as he stood when he pulled away.

"If I don't go now I won't go at all. So I gotta go. Don't leave, okay? I lo—" He let the words die down into his cup, shaking his head as if that would push them away from his lips. "I gotta go." And Harry let him because he understood.

It's funny what the human mind did to distract you from things you don't want to deal with. On the elevator ride to the sixth floor he thought about that time he had broken his arm. He was young, maybe four at the most. His father had just left, but Johannah was still okay.

She'd taken him in to get the bone set and wrapped in a cast, and as soon as the doctor stepped away they left. Running down the halls in a fit giggles so heavy he forgot about his broken arm. He forgot about the pain.

She had even taken him to one of the biggest candy shops on 4th St. because, "Sugar is the best medicine, boo bear. Right behind laughter, of course."

He knew she wasn't that woman anymore, but he so desperately wanted her to be. He'd seen glimmers of her sometimes, and those glimmers gave him hope. He always held onto his hope, something she passed onto him ironically.

Her door was open as it always was. His heart despite all the trauma it withstood beat violently in his battered chest, threatening to break right through his ribcage. There was a doctor sat at her bedside in sleek dark clothes. A watch, silver and bright, glinted off the lighting from above the bed.

But it wasn't a doctor, not from the way Johannah's tired face had lit up. She was nearly smiling as Dr. McGillicuddy stood across from them both with a tablet held tight to his chest. That jello feeling settled in the boy's legs once more, but tears hadn't sprung to his eyes this time. No, he wasn't sad, he was angry. Boiling even. If that was who he thought it was, he was angry.

When the man that wasn't a doctor turned to him his blood ran cold. His throat had gone so dry he fell into a fit of coughs. He hadn't seen that face since he was a little boy, but he'd never forget it. He closed his eyes trying stop the roaring in his ears. He wrapped arms that trembled again around himself, breathing in Harry's scent and the roaring stopped.

"What are you doing here?" He said it so loudly, the sound reverberated in the doorway.

"Boo?" Johannah rasped. Her voice was a low gritty grumble that made the boy's skin crawl. He ignored her, narrowed eyes locked onto the man that wasn't a doctor because he was the cause of all the mess, all of Johannah's pain. All of his pain.

"What are you doing here?" He snapped out again, moving closer without realizing. The man looked nearly identical to his memory with a few added wrinkles and graying hair at his roots.

"I think we should speak in the hall." He was sleek in dress and his movements. Louis saw only flash of himself in the man before him, and it coiled his stomach into painfully sharp little knots.

"I'm not going anyway with y—"

"Please." Johannah cut in. It was so strange to hear her speak so lucidly, to see the plea in her eyes be so earnest.

"Okay." He said it too easily. He hadn't meant to just bend to her every will like some fucking puppy, but she seemed so much like her old self he couldn't help it. "Okay."

He pushed his fingernails into the skin of his stomach that was bare beneath the sweatshirt in the hopes of steadying his breathing. He could practically hear Harry telling him not to hurt himself, so he did letting his hands drop limply by his sides.

"I know you aren't happy to see me." The man before him said slowly. He enunciated his words precisely so as if Louis was the little boy he was when the man left. He wasn't that boy anymore. "God, you've grown so much."

"Your kid doesn't just stop growing after you leave. The world kept fucking turning, Mark." A nurse with squeaking shoes zoomed passed them with a gurney who's wheels squealed from the pressure of the body atop it. "How did you know she was here?"

Mark studied his son just as carefully as the boy did him. "I'm your mother's emergency contact. Her primary one for this hospital."

"No you aren't." Louis exasperated, shifting his weight between feet. "I am."

"You're not." Mark shook his head firmly. "Not here. Not at this hospital. You don't come here much. You were born here, you know? And I suppose that's why. My firm donated quite a bit of money to this hospital. This wing is named after my partners, and—"

"I know where I was born, and I don't need your life story." Louis snapped. He didn't want to do this, he needed Harry. "What do you want, Mark? After all this time, what could you possible want?"

"When I got the call, I—" He struggled over his words. "I didn't know she was so—I just want to help her. And you, Louis. It's the least I can do."

"We don't need your fucking charity." He had the nerve to laugh, Mark did. The sound was so hauntingly similar to the humorless ones Louis himself let out, it took everything in his power not to plug his fingers in his ears like the child he once was would.

"I'm paying for this room. You didn't think you could afford this on no insurance, did you?" And no the boy didn't, but he hadn't questioned it either. That explained why the staff was so nice, and why the room was so big. It explained why for the first time Louis had gotten a comfortable chair.

"She's sick, Louis. And you know as well as anybody that all I want is the best for her."

It was Louis' turn to laugh. "The best for her? You fucking left her! You left us! You broke her, and all you won't is the best for her?" He shook his head pitifully. "You can kept telling yourself those lies, but spare me, okay?"

"I know I haven't made the best choices as a father or husband, but I'm willing to do whatever I can to help her get better now."

"It's too fucking late now, Mark!" Louis stomped his foot, the anger in him boiling up to a nasty peak threatening to explode. "You can't fix it now."

The man laughed again, but the tiniest bit of humor oozed with this one. "You're stubborn, just like her. You've got lots of me in looks, but you're her through and through. The way she was before." He flipped a card from the pocket of his sleek jacket and handled it over to Louis. "She needs rehabilitation, and I'm willing to help with that. If you'll let me."

Louis snatched the card away to look it over. Rothswell And Co. Architecture, it read. The boy frowned down at it.

"Rothswell?"

"It's my middle name." The man explained. "I don't go by Tomlinson because—"

"I get it." Louis interrupted with a snort. "I wouldn't want to be attached to my mistake either."

"Louis, that's not—"

"What are you giving me this for?" The boy grew impatient now.

"I'd like for you to come by my office, so we can arrange something for Johannah. I'm offering you help, Louis. All you have to do is take it." He was off with that. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, and slipping down the hall like a dream. Louis wished it was a dream.

He glanced at the card again before slipping it in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He didn't care about Mark or his money or his help, but Johannah did. And that's all that mattered. As much as the boy hated to admit it, he'd do anything for her.

And if swallowing his pride for the sake of his mother's health was a pill he had to choke down, then so be it.


	18. Chapter 18

**"You** don't have to go if you don't want to." Harry mumbled down to a nearly sleeping Louis. He traced the deep purplish ring of bruises he had left on the boy's collarbones. They had fallen back into routine, or what they considered routine anyway with jarring ease.

Louis hooked his feet over the edge of the couch, and laid with his cheek pressed firmly against Harry's thigh.

"I know." He turned so that his words were lost in the fabric of the man's shirt. Louis liked this particular shirt more than most because Harry's scent had seeped so deep into the soft cotton, it wouldn't leave no matter how many times he'd thrown it in the wash. So yeah, it was Louis' favorite. "But I have to go."

"Will you let me go with you?" They'd come a long way from late night bouts in the back of Harry's car. It was scary, the connection they had come to share, so intense at times that it frightened them both.

"Yes." Louis breathed it like it was common knowledge, and well, it was. "I don't want to go to his office alone." He didn't want to go to the office at all, but Harry knew that. Harry knew him.

Harry slipped his fingers beneath the hem of the boy's shirt, pressing cold fingertips to the small of his back. It soothed Louis in a way that not many other things could.

"You don't need him. I could—we could pay for your mother's treatment. We have enough, and even if we didn't we could hit more places. Then there's the big heist." They talk about that heist like it's this magical thing to aspire to do, yet they haven't really talked about it. More around it than about it.

"You still want to do the big heist?" Louis asked thoughtfully, nuzzling closer into the shirt.

"Of course." Harry said, without hesitation. "Want us to be set for life. Never want you to want for anything again."

"You think we'll be together that long?" The words tumbled out of Louis' mouth before he knew it was happening. If he was honest, he wasn't quite clear on what they were at all. They were each other's he supposed, as they both had a bad habit of randomly declaring one another as "mine", but still.

Belonging to each other then hadn't meant forever by default. Although Louis couldn't see his forever, his for life with anyone else. Before Harry could answer the question Louis had already answered himself, Zayn swung the front door open with entirely too much force before strolling inside with a wayward Jamie on his trail.

They carried arm loads of shopping bags, and the distinct smell of Chinese takeaway from The Golden Dragon restaurant just two blocks away settled thickly in the air.

"I got takeout." The man beamed proudly, as if he hadn't gotten takeout from the pizzeria down the street just the day before. "And Peach went grocery shopping, because she's a domestic goddess all of a sudden."

Their relationship was peculiar, Jamie and Zayn's. They were more best friends who fuck rather than being in an actual relationship, but in rare moments such as these when Jamie was his "peach" they looked like something similar to lovers.

"Yum." Louis pulled himself from Harry's warmth, letting cold toes slide against even colder floor. He swayed with bare feet and legs into the kitchen, smiling at Jamie as he pawed through grease spotted bags. He plucked an egg roll from a bag for six, and took a hearty bite. "Z, come for a smoke with me?"

Zayn, who had begun to shrugged of his hoodie, nodded. "Yeah. Sure thing, princess."

Louis swayed from the island with pretty bare legs back into the living room, pushing up on his toes to lean over the back of the recliner to dig nimble fingers into the pocket of the dark leather jacket that lay strew against the arm rest. He pulled out a pack of fags that weren't his, and slipped one for the carton. He placed it behind his ear like he'd seen both Harry and Zayn do many a time.

"You haven't got on any pants, pretty boy. Or shoes." Was all Harry said, but Louis still heard the underlying "go put some on" so he does—albeit with an eye roll. When he was draped his Harry clothes, sweatpants rolled at his hips so they would slip down he pressed a kissed to the man's cheek.

"Come on, Z." Harry and Zayn exchanged a look that Louis couldn't decipher before slipping out into the hall. Louis' shoes flopped when he walked as he hadn't put on the sneakers properly, instead he slipped into them mashing the backs down under his heels.

They slipped out into the cool air of day, wedging the designated wide piece of wood at the opening of the emergency exit door so it sat cracked open. The thick, damp autumn breeze prickled at Louis' exposed skin like bee stings when he brought the unlit cigarette to chapped lips.

"So what's wrong?" Zayn asked, his eyes steadily chasing the string of smoke before him after lighting a cigarette of his own.

Louis blinked. "What do you mean?" He studied the cracked tile beneath his feet. Honey colored weeds had begun to seeped up through the broken concrete, tickling the soles of his sneakers.

Zayn breathed through a thick plume of gray smoke. "Come smoke with me," He fixed his the fingers of his free hand in air quotes. "Is usually code for "I need to talk", So what's up, Lou?"

He kind of hated Zayn sometimes. Hated the man for being able to read him so easily. Why could everyone read him so fucking easily?

"I just wanted a smoke that's all." The lie didn't sit well, it fell wrong from his lips.

"Okay." Zayn said, simply. "I'm not gonna force it out of you."

Louis shifted his weight back and forth between the balls of his feet. A taxi, bright and yellow, sped by. Its tires dipped into a puddle, water shooting up from beneath them in a glistening spray.

"How long have you and Harry been friends?" He took the cigarette from his lips, and twirled it around his fingers. They still trembled, his fingers. No matter how much he willed them to stop.

"Too long." Zayn's shrug was slow and languid. "We met back in uni. A computer science nerd, and a lit major being best mates, who'd have thought?" The question wasn't there for Louis to answer, it just sat in the air to linger. "Why do you ask?"

He didn't know why he asked, to be quite honest. Just to fill the silence he supposed, it was getting too loud for his liking.

"He loves you, you know?"

Oh. Oh.

Louis laughed a little, shaking his head back and forth. He debated lighting the cigarette for real.

"I'm serious." Zayn said, but Louis already knew he was. He followed the man's ring of grey smoke instead of meeting the sincerity in those golden colored eyes. "Harry doesn't love many people, he doesn't love much of anything actually. But he loves you, I can see it. Anyone who knows you both can. When you disappeared for that little while he'd gone mad, that's when I knew."

Louis stayed silent for a long beat. He tucked the cigarette behind his ear again, and wrapped his arms around himself. He let his fingers fall beneath the hem of his shirt to rub at his bare skin.

"I love him too." He whispered it so low, it was nearly lost on the howl of the wind. Zayn flicked the ash of his cigarette to the ground, and watched it fall in a heap. "I know, princess. And so does he." They stood in the whistling wet wind until Zayn finished his cigarette and Louis couldn't take the cold anymore.

And yeah, maybe he didn't hate Zayn so much after all.

Rothswell And Co. Architecture was large in stature, and sleek in style. The building's structure was nearly all glass, Louis wasn't quite sure if he wanted to go in. He fiddled with the hem of his skirt with one hand and tugged at the strap of his rucksack with the other, instead of passing through the revolving doors.

And he didn't at all wear a skirt to spite his father. Not in the slightest.

"You alright, pretty boy?" Harry leaned on the opposing wall, a cigarette hung low from bubble gum pink lips. "We can go if you want to."

Louis shook his head. "No, I have to do this. I'm gonna do it." He pulled his  
jacket—Harry's jacket—tight around his shoulders. "Wish me luck, okay?"

Instead of doing just that, he pulled Louis in for a kiss. It was quick and sweet until the man swiped his tongue across the boy's bottom lip, he had to force himself away.

"I'll be out here if you need me."

Louis' smile was soft and private. "I know." With that he finally went through the doors. The building, he thought, may have been colder than the outside. The lobby was much like the streets of Auburn City, buzzing with people. The color scheme was varied among stark whites, and sharp silvers.

The mass of business causal robots hadn't slowed when he entered, and he hadn't expected them to. He strode slow and steady to the front desk where a woman with unnaturally blonde hair wrapped in some sort of beehive atop her head sat.

The tight lipped smiled she threw him was brief and faded as quickly when she let her eyes roam him.

"Hello." She said, her voice was politely iced. "How may I help you?"

Louis picked at his jagged ends of his nails. "I'm here to see Mark  
Tomli—Rothswell."

"Have you got an appointment?"

The boy's smile went sharp, his eyes cool and flat. "I don't need an appointment, love. My fucking father will see me whether I have an appointment or now. So you can give me his floor number, or I can go off and find it myself."

Her armor, iced and hard, only faltered for a moment before giving in. "Mr. Rothswell's office is on the 28th floor, but you'll need—Hey wait! You need a visitor's pass!" She sounded nearly panicked, but Louis kept walking, dismissing her with a hand.

The bank of elevators were just as glossy as the rest of the place, he was surprised they weren't glass as well.

And okay, He wasn't really nervous per se, just apprehensive. This man, a man who he could barely remember and hadn't been in his life in years had suddenly wriggled his way back in, and well, that worried him. Johannah worried him more though.

But all of this, everything he was doing, was for her. She was all that mattered in this moment, so he'd do it. For her.

The ride up to the 28th wasn't long enough. Before he knew it the doors were gliding open with a low buzz and soft ding. He stepped out into another hall. Names of associates and departments were tacked against marble walls in thin gold lettering.

He skimmed through the clustered, before landing on his father's name. He didn't have to will it to memory as it would be pushed there for eternity now.

Finding the office itself wasn't hard, navigating through throngs of pretentious business folk who couldn't help, but throw him dirty side eyes however was another story.

He made it through nonetheless as it was nothing he wasn't used to. He fell to yet another desk, a young man sat at this one. His skin was a murky tan that seemed to be fading as the weather grew colder and the sun took to hiding behind clouds more often than not.

"I'm here to see him." Louis loosely pointing at the office behind the young man's desk. The gold name plate that sat atop his desk read Alex Keisler in a fancy, but legible scrawl.

"Mr. Rothswell has stepped away for a moment." Although he tried to hide it, there was born and breed New Yorker laced through Alex's words. "You can certainly wait here until he returns."

Louis shook his head with a sigh. "I'm just gonna go in. He won't care if I do."

Alex's dark eyes widened a bit when the boy made for the door. "Um, I can't let you do that. He'll have my head if I let you in there.

"Listen. I'm his kid, okay?" Louis sighed heavily, like it was a burden to be related to anyone who worked in a huge glass building. "I won't fuck anything up in there, alright? Scouts' honor. I'm just waiting for my dad. I won't get you into any trouble."

He looked skeptical, Alex did, but he wasn't going to stop the boy. So he settled for a sigh even heavier than Louis' and a nod.

The office was bigger than had Louis excepted it to be. A rich mahogany desk sat taking up at least a quarter of the room's space. There was a row of large pane floor-to-ceiling windows nuzzled behind it, the view overlooking Auburn was almost breathtaking.

There were bookshelves pushed against the far walls on either sides of the desk. He let himself wander, the leather of the jacket suddenly losing warmth as he walked. The walls were littered with a awards and degrees and pictures.

He tapped trembling fingers over a family portrait. His father's real family. His white picket fence, big house on a hill family. The trophy mom and the half siblings Louis never got the pleasure of meeting.

Their loss.

The desk itself was messy, littered with papers. The PC sitting dormant had all types of post-it notes and papers stuck to its screen. Louis wasn't usually a snoop, but he couldn't help taking a closer look at the mess. Blueprints for Blue Star Federal Bank stay atop the pile, and Louis skimmed over them. He propped a hip up on the wood bringing the plans closer, letting sharp blues eyes scan and file away for later.

The plans were copies he realized as there were at least five more just like tossed about the desk. Blue Star had been under construction for at least the month. It's main branch downtown littered with hard workers—and the ones who hardly worked.

And then there was a spark.

He tugged his bag from around his shoulders, letting it fall with a small thud. He folded the prints in small tight folds and tucked them away, shoving them to the bottom of the bag. There was a glint of what one could only call mischief in his eyes as dug into the drawers with precise finesse, his wheels turning.

He continued to dug, throwing the occasional glance to the door. He couldn't have had much time, but he needed to find—Ha! There it was, an ID badge. Mark's Rothswell And Co. ID badge.

He placed it flat on the desktop. Although Louis trusted his memory more than anything else, he figured tangible pictorial evidence was safer. So he snapped pictures of the front and backside of the ID before slipping it back into its place like he was never there.

He stood already devising somewhat of a probable plan in his head. He plucked a pen from a cup on the smooth mahogany and ripped a note sheet from a pad amount the rubble. He scrawled out a quick note before gathering his stuff up and slipping out of the office as quick as he came.

"Oh!" Alex perked up when Louis emerged. "Mr. Rothswell will be right up."

"Rain check, mate. Something came up, tell him I'll reschedule, yeah?"

Alex sputtered, but Louis didn't slow. His gears were still grinding, wheels still turning. If he could find a fucking staircase he'd taken them, all 28 flights. He ordered himself to regulate his breathing. He had to resist the urge to run through out the office and bang on the elevator buttons in the hopes of them getting him down faster.

The ride down was much longer than the ride up, but he was only slightly irritated. Relax, he pressed do himself. He had to. When he reached the lobby once more, he didn't even spare blondie bitch a glance. He whizzed out of the revolving door to find Harry, his stud sat on the hood of his old Camaro.

His brow furrowed when he saw Louis, like a confused puppy, the boy thought. It was cute, but he didn't have time for cute. "Well that was fast. What happened? How did it—"

"You were right." Louis interrupted, hastily. The man grinned in return, sly and smug per usual, but Louis could still sense lingering confusion.

"I usually am, and as much as I appreciate that random declaration, I have no idea what you're talking about, love. Right about what? What happened up there? Is he gonna help Johannah?"

"You were right." The boy repeated, waving his hands dismissively. "I don't need him. We don't need him. I have an idea."

 

≫≫≫

 

"I'm sorry, what?" Harry said at the same time Zayn scoffed, "I love you, princess, but that's fucked."

"Alright alright. Let's hear him out!" Jamie interjected, which the boy appreciated. She was his favorite for sure.

"Guys, I'm serious. I think we should hit Blue Star for the last heist." He bounced on his toes when he said it, his gears hadn't stopped turning since he left the office.

"Baby, Zayn's right. That's fucking crazy." Harry's frown deepened as continues to process it all, his loose curls shook a little as he in shifted on his feet. "Blue Star is one of the biggest banks in the city. God, security is crazy tight. We could never pull something like that off."

Zayn pat the man's back with a nod in solidarity. Louis was back to hating him.

"We could if the bank was under construction and we knew the layout. And if we enlisted to new members of the team to help." He tacked on the last bit so quickly it meshed together.

"No, nuh uh. No way you you're dragging peach and me into this." Zayn voiced, firmly.

"Oi, you don't speak for me. You're not my keeper, I do what I wan—"

And to avoid all impending fights, Louis let out a loud screech. It was shrill and not a particularly nice sound, but it did the job of shutting them all up.

"If you guys would just listen and hold all questions, rebuttals, insults, whatever until the end that'd be greatly appreciated."

They stayed quiet, and Louis cleared his throat.

"Right. Well like I said, I think we should hit Blue Star as our last heist. It's crazy, I know, but also very possible. And I can only pull it off with your help. All of you." He moved to the coffee table, dropping his bag down on the glass gently and crouching in front of it."

"So you all know I met with my father today, or well, at least I was supposed to."

"Wait, so you didn't?" Harry inquired, tilting his head a bit.

"Details, Harold." He waved a dismissive hand. "Hold the questions for the end. Anyway. My father's an architect, a fairly successful one as his firm is doing a full renovation of Blue Star Federal Bank. The main branch of the bank hasn't been open to the public in a month, as least I think so."

Louis dug through his bag then, pulling out his copy of the Blue Star blueprints. "These are the new plans. Now I know the bank isn't fully renovated yet, so we can't follow these plans to a T, but I'm sure our resident computer genius could easily get the originals for us."

Zayn bristled in his seat, but he didn't speak.

"You all play crucial roles in the plan. We've each got very different skills that'll ensure we pull this off."

"Well, what do you need us for?" Zayn spoke up. "Me and peach? You and Harry have been doing fine on your own."

"It's a bigger job, my dear Z. A bigger job means a more elaborate plan. Plus, a bigger payout." The man raised his brows at that, and Louis smiled coyly.

"So, Z. Your role. Your e-skills are a monumental part in this plan. You get us the old prints, as well as an eye on the inside. I know you're a good hacker, you told me once when you were high off your ass." Jamie stifled a giggle in her hand at that.

"Hack into Rothswell And Co. as well as Blue Star's database. We need schedules to know the best time to hit. Hack the security system and cameras too. We need it all disabled, but just enough not to cause any attention. Plus you won't even have to come inside. You'll be our guy on the inside, but outside. You'll double as getaway driver since we're limited on team members." He took a long shaky breath before continuing his speech of sorts.

"Then there's you, J." Louis directed his attention to the red haired girl. "You're our distraction, you get us inside. Harry and I, I mean. We'll disguise you as a Rothswell employee. I'll need Z to whip up one of those fake IDs, but those are just logistics. We'll have to gather the workers somehow. We'll get them inside and you'll have to hold them. At gunpoint probably, but you won't have to shoot anyone, I promise."

He turned on his heels to Harry then. "And then there's you, my love. You'll be with me. You and I will pose as Jamie's lackeys or construction workers only for a little bit though as we have to do one of the most critical parts of the plan. Get into the vault."

The three erupted into chaos after that, all shouting over each at once. Louis sighed again as if he was burdened with such terrible friends before screeching again.

"The bank is completely abandoned apart from the construction workers, a few RAC architects, and the most important person. The bank manager. That's the only person in the bank at the time that we are who knows the code to the vault. We take them, Harry and I. Force it out of them. There's millions in that vault. If we pull it off we'll be set. So um, the end?"

They didn't speak even after Louis gave them the floor. He fidgeted a bit in the with their eyes on him. He closed his eyes and willed for one of them to say something. It wasn't that bad a plan, at least he didn't think so.

"Do you think we can really pull this off?" Jamie asked, her eyes sharp and jaw set. He'd never seen her look so serious.

"I do." He nodded. "I think we can do it."

The smile that broke out on her face was so wide and bright, Louis could've cried. "Okay, I'm in."

Louis—just barely—fought the urge to dance right in his spot. This was a serious proposal after all. "Z?"

The man grumbled in his seat, his scowl set deep into his pretty face. "If we get arrested for this I will never forever you, princess. But, I guess I'm in too."

Louis did dance that time.

Harry's face was blank, unreadable. His eyes, harsh and green, studied Louis' carefully. The boy stepped into his space, almost challenging him.

"Well?" He pressed, hopefully. His slipped his arms around the man's waist with a small smile. "What do you think?"

Harry carded his fingers through his boy's hair. "It's risky, baby. Like really risky."

"The big heist is bound to be risky, it's the last one. The toughest, biggest, riskiest one. And we can do it. We'll be legends."

Harry stared at him again, with those hard unreadable eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"As sure as I've ever been about anything, as long as you're doing it with me." The man sighed heavily into Louis' hair. He smelled like vanilla and honey.

"Okay. You and me, pretty boy. We'll be legends."


	19. Chapter 19

**If** you had asked Louis where he'd be at this very moment just a couple months ago, he'd have never said he'd be lying amongst the stars with a beautiful man who's skin was painted aglow in the pale alabaster moonlight.

But there he was, tangled and strewn against a ratty blanket in the dark of dusk. The night air danced across his skin, he had barely felt though as his entire being was ablaze.

The man's fingers trailing down his down his bare skin sparked a flame in his bones that spread to the walls of his soul like wildfire. He stirred on the tattered blanket, wrapping legs enclosed by joggers that didn't even belong to him around Harry's.

The plans for the impending heist sat heavy on his shoulders. If they didn't pull this off, if they couldn't they could get real time for this. Hard time. But if they could do it, if they managed by the grace of some god somewhere to pull it off they'd be set.

They'd be legendary.

"Get out of your head." Harry drawled, his voice as slow and smooth as the finest honey money could buy. "I can hear you thinking."

"There's a lot to think about."

Harry drew the boy close then, breathing into his hair. "You getting cold feet?"

"Hardly." Louis scoffed, twirling trembling fingers in the pockets of the man's sweatshirt. "Just a few pre-heist jitters, that's all."

"You could quit on this, I wouldn't hold it against you."

It was a loaded statement, Louis knew that, but he brought himself back with furrowed brows nonetheless. "Do you honestly think I could quit on you?"

"Quitting on me and quitting on the heist are two very different things." They were talking in circles and Louis hated it.

"I'm not quitting on either. Ever." Harry brought him close again, breathing in the scents of lavender and honey that lingered in the boy's hair.

"That's a big promise to keep."

"Since when do I break my promises?" Louis murmured sleepily.

"You don't, I just—"

"I love you. You know that, right?" The words sat heavily between them on the night air. "As crazy as that seems, I love you. And I'll love you tomorrow and the next day. I'll love you if we make away with millions of dollars after the heist or if we don't go for it at all."

Instead of opting for words, Harry kissed him. It was long and tender and left Louis breathless before it was over.

"You taste like strawberries and nicotine." The man finally spoke, and well that definitely was not what Louis wanted to hear.

His eyes glazed a bit at the words, a sudden rush sadness he had to push himself to blink away. His lips, thin and pink twisted into a distasteful glower. For fuck's sake he had just declared his love of all things and this is what he ge—

"At last." Harry began, momentarily halting Louis' inner turmoil. "When all the summer shine that warmed life's early hours is past, your loving fingers seek for mine and hold them close—at last—at last!"

"What?" The boy began, but the man only continued.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight. For the ends of being and ideal grace, I love thee to the level of everyday's most quiet need, by sun and candlelight."

"Wha—Harry, stop talking to me in riddled poetry, okay? Christ, you can't even tell me you love me like a normal person!"

"I love you." He punctuated each word with a kiss to the boy's exposed skin. "I love you. I think I realized I loved you for the first time when we walked along the train tracks in a junkyard at 2am. You rambling on about these lovers, Artemis, goddess of the moon and Orion, the hunter." He laughed on the memory like he was back in that moment.

"You could talk about Greek mythology and constellations for hours on end, and I'd listen for forever. And after telling me the origin of the two you pointed at the stars and said, "That's Orion, and if you look just close enough at the moon you can see the love of his life, Artemis guiding it towards him." I was gone for you right then and there."

The world sort of shifted between the two again. The echoes of horns and tires skidding into muddy puddles in the city streets below kind of just faded away all at once, and it was just the two of them in a warped bubble of dysfunctional real love that was all their own.

Louis wasn't too sure what the difference between fucking and love making was until that night on the roof. Harry had interlocked their fingers when he pushed into the boy so achingly slow. His body screamed with want and lust and need, and Harry had fulfilled his every request.

The man whispered broken lines of poetry and declarations of love through his moans against the boy's skin, and that alone could've pushed him to orgasm.

And after they had both found ecstasy beneath the starless sky, Harry breathed a sigh of relief into Louis' mouth.

"I love you, Artemis." He mumbled it dreamily against the boy's lips.

"I love you more, Orion."

 

≫≫≫

 

"Should we have eaten before this? Like this doesn't seem like something you want to go into on an empty stomach." Zayn rubbed a hand over his belly in all seriousness.

"Oh, darling." Jamie rolled her eyes fondly, while patting a dainty hand to the man's cheek. "Only you would think of food at a time like this." They sat, all four of them in a black work van that read Jenson & Son Cleaning Company in bright blue and white lettering along either side.

The van didn't actually belong to Jenson & Son as Louis had conjured up the logo thanks to the trusty dusty World Wide Web, and well "borrowed" the van from some lofty construction company's parking lot. He would return it. Probably.

"It's better to do these things on an empty stomach, because when you're done you'll be able to splurge on a huge celebratory diner." Louis explained, as he tugged on his gun harnesses over his body that was clad in a stealthy black skin suit.

"Well, lunch." Harry spoke up from his corner of the van. He was tucking large empty duffel bags into the bottoms of even larger garbage pales that also sported the Jenson & Son logo. "It is about noon, so celebratory lunch."

Louis only rolled his eyes as Zayn spoke. "Yeah, speaking of which who attempts at heist at noon?"

"Boys." Jamie interrupted. Her fiery locks were hidden by a wig of chocolate brown curls that fell freely just above her elbows. She was dressed in a curve hugging pencil skirt and grey blazer to match, a Rothswell & Co employee ID badge laid at her chest. She looked the part. "This really isn't the time to discuss our choice of schedule, is it?"

"Right." Zayn said at the same time Harry mumbled a quiet, "Sorry."

Louis took a peek at his watch before letting his gaze fall back on his gang of misfits. He wasn't nervous per se. Scratch that, he was more than nervous. He had gone over the plan at least a trillion and one times in his head. It was solid, they could pull it off.

But there was a tug. The little pull at the back of his throat that told him they'd fail. They couldn't though, they wouldn't. It was now or never.

"You alright, pretty boy?" He hadn't noticed Harry maneuver just so in the small van to place a warm and familiar hand at the small of his back.

"Oh yeah, I'm good. Great. Just want everything to go well."

"It will." The man assured, giving him a small squeeze. Louis decided to keep his belief in Murphy's law to himself for once.

"Alright. You all know how crucial each part you play to the plan is. No pressure, but let's try not fuck it."

Zayn left out a loud snort. "Great pep talk, princess."

"You've all got your ear pieces, right?" Louis tapped the flesh colored device tucked in his ear. "We need to keep in contact with each other at all times."

"Got it." Jamie nodded as did Zayn.

Harry gave him another squeeze. "We're all set, pretty boy."

"Right." Louis nodded to himself. He fingers had finally stopped trembling. "Let's do this."

 

**STEP ONE: THE TROJAN HORSE**

The click and clack of Jamie's skinny black heels was deafening on the pavement leading up to the maintenance entrance of Blue Star Federal Bank. She banged on the heavy door, tapping her foot and rolling her eyes with an annoyed huff.

"Hello!" She roared, playing her part as entitled architect all too well.

 _"Alright."_ Zayn's voice came crackling through the earpieces. _"I've got eyes on the inside now. I managed to get into Blue Star's security database which wasn't easy as they have an army of firewalls, but i'm in for now as it doesn't look like a breach. We need to move fast. Peach, when you get inside there's about ten workers gathered in a break room. That's where you'll hold them while Harry and Lou work their magic."_

After a couple more minutes of banging the doors swung open. Construction workers dressed in dirtied khakis and yellow hard hats, circled in the door way.

"Emily Pelonis, lead architect with Rothswell & Co." Jamie flashed her badge and the men sort of cowered. "I want to know why there's a fucking colony of garbage cans blocking the entrance in which my associates and I are meant to bring our materials to turn to place from a fucking nightmare."

"Look, Ms. Pelonis. There's actually another entrance designated for the architects, but we can let you in this way. It's no trouble."

"Yeah, whatever." She shoved her way in passed them. "Just bring those garbage cans in too. It seems that some of the precious metals we worked with have been throw anyway, and now the wretched things need to be sorted through." She turned to them when she noticed they hadn't budged. "Come on! Chop chop, time is money. And I'd hate to have to report this little mishap back to Mr. Rothswell."

"No need for that, ma'am." The tallest of the bunch of workers spoke up. "We'll bring them right in." She watched as they did, counted as they lined them up each garbage can against an unfinished wall of the bank.

 _"On my signal, boys. Do not come out until my signal."_ Zayn's voice buzzed in their ears.

Louis had to fight an eye roll while wedged in that stupid garbage can, but he kept his mouth shut until Zayn's signal.

_"Peach, your gun is in the third garbage can to left beneath the metals. The break room is three doors down, that's where you'll hold them. Go for it on my count. I'm dropping surveillance for the west wing. I'm playing a snippet I cut from earlier on a loop just in case there are any other eyes on it."_

Jamie threw the top of the garbage can to the side with a wicked little grin. She dug through the metals until her fingers brushed the pistol. She pulled it out with wide wonder struck eyes.

"Huh. A two-tone Beretta 92FS." She twirled it in her hands before pointing the barrel towards the construction workers. "This should be fun, boys."

 _"Now!"_ Zayn's voice boomed.

Both Louis and Harry broke from their designated garbage cans then, guns at the ready. They had both sported the familiar masks and bandanas they wore at every other hit naturally. It was their staple after all. Every bad guy needed a signature.

"Hiya!" Louis grinned beneath his mask. The adrenaline he knew all too well wound its way through his veins.

"She brought company." Harry added, stilling dragging gangly limbs from the garbage cans. "She's pretty crazy though, I'd do what she says."

"Come on, boys." Jamie spoke up again. "Let's go for a little walk to the break room." When no one intended to budge Louis dug through one of the duffel bags Harry had thrown to the bottom of the garbage cans. He pulled a stainless steel Walther PPK with a narrow suppressor attached at the barrel out, handing it over to Jamie.

"Thank you." Jamie sang songed. "Now, if you assholes don't start fucking moving by the count of three, I'm gonna put a bullet in each one of your chests and no one is gonna hear it." She tapped the suppressor against the closest worker's hard hat.

They all seemed to startle in motion at once with their hands held high—upon Jamie's request. When she and the workers were nearly down the hall, she turned back with a wild smile and a wave. "Go on. I'm good here, we haven't got much time."

"Be safe!" Louis warned before turning back to Harry.

 _"She's kinda hot when she's goes all crazy psycho bank robber, innit?_ " Zayn crackled in their ears.

"Stay focused, Z." Harry murmured.

_"Right. The vault is on the lower level, this place was built back in the 20s. It was more common for vaults to be on the lowest or second to lowest level. There's a staircase just down the halls opposite Jamie. Go for it now while the coast is clear."_

Louis debated on whether he should strip the garbage cans of their duffels or just drag them along with him.

"Lou, come on. We gotta go." Harry said already dragging his cans with him.

"You got my back?" The boy asked, breaking into a little run to keep up with the man.

"Forever and always."

Zayn retched in their ears. _"Enough with the mush. Get a move on, lads. We haven't got all day."_

 

**STEP TWO: THE GRAB AND GO**

Maneuvering fairly large garbage cans that toted a litany of firearms and empty bags down two flights of stairs wasn't exactly the easiest task to fulfill whilst trying to be stealthy bank robbers.

But Harry and Louis had done pretty well, that is until they encountered one Cindy Lou Parsons on the staircase.

You see Cindy Lou was a stout woman with knobby knees, and glasses that were fair too big for her face. She looked to be barely older than Harry, and the drop of a pen could probably give her a heart attack.

When she had begun to walk up the staircase the robbers had subsequently been coming down, she stopped short. Her eyes were wide and grey behind even wider frames.

"Please don't scream, love." Harry started, his gun already raised at her forehead. "I'd hate to have to kill you before we got any proper use out of you."

Louis raised the top of his garbage can once more. "Hop in. We're gonna go for a ride. Be careful too, doll. There's loaded guns in there."

_"Lads, that's the bank manager. Cindy Lou Parsons. Age: 27. She's worked with Blue Star since she was 21."_

"Oh cheers, mate." Harry griped with an eye roll. "Yeah, her badge that read bank manager wasn't much of a giveaway at all. Have you got her Tinder profile as well?"

_"Oi, sod off, mate. I—"_

"Boys." Jamie's voice came buzzing through next. "How's it going out there? They're getting antsy in here, and as much fun as it's been playing crazy psycho bank robber, I don't actually want to kill anybody."

"You won't have to, J." Louis said, closing the top over Cindy Lou after stripping her over her cellphone and keys. "We're heading down to the vault now, just hang tight." He struggled with Cindy Lou's weight and Harry noticed, taking the boy's can away to add to the weight of his own.

"Just cover me, yeah?" Harry instructed.

"Always, stud. Alright, now if memory serves—and it usually does, the vault sits in a hub all by itself about few hallways down from this very staircase."

 _"You're right."_ Zayn agreed. _"The vaults about eight minutes down. Five, if you run._ "

"Catch me if you can." Louis beamed, before breaking off into a sprint.

_"There's a few security measures before you get to the vault. The first you actually need Parsons for as it's a finger print scan. The second is the vault itself. Parsons has the code. Then there's a gate right behind the vault door. The key is on the ring you took from her."_

The bank had looked untouched, renovation wise down the basement. Still rustic, and aged.

Harry ripped the top of the garbage can, and tapped its side with the nose of his gun. "Out, Mary Lou."

"Cindy Lou." She corrected on shaky legs as she climbed out. She reminded Louis of Bambi, all wide eyed and stumbling.

"Right." Harry tapped his gun against the closed door. "Open it. Now."

"Listen." She began. There was dark lipstick smudged across her teeth. "I've got a kid, a daughter. Please, don't hurt me." And well, yeah that tugged at Louis' heart strings just a bit. Sue him.

"We won't." The boy promised. "But you have to open the door. We'll let you go when we're finished here. Nobody has to get hurt, okay?"

"Open the door, Cindy." Harry waved his gun haphazardly. "I'm not as nice as my counterpart here."

Louis could see her inner battle with herself, before she ultimately gave in. She pressed her fingertips against the glistening security plate. A whining beep erupted from the device, before a symphony of locks clicked and the latched released.

They waited for Cindy Lou to enter first, more of an security measure if anything else.

The vault itself was a hulking thing of sparkling stainless steel and reinforced concrete set against a backdrop of pristine white walls. Louis breath hitched just a bit.

"Fuck." He breathed. "Alright, Z. We're in."

Harry turned to woman again, tapped his gun against her side. "Cindy Lou, it's your time shine. Cough up that code, doll face. We're on a tight schedule."

"I—I don't have it." Fresh tears spilled from the corners of her Bambi eyes, and Harry chuckled.

"Cindy, Cindy, Cindy. Remember what I said? I'm not as nice as him. If you don't give use that code, I'll put a bullet in each of your kneecaps. How does that sound?"

"I don't have it! It's a timed lock. The code changes every 35 minutes. The updated code comes encrypted to my Blue Star pager every time it changes. We're on the cusp of a change now. The old code won't work while the system works to create a new one. I haven't gotten a new code yet."

The two only looked at each other for a long while, before Louis tapped his ear piece with groan. "Z, what the fuck?"

 _"I'm working on it._ " Zayn huffed. _"I didn't know there was a timed lock. The old plans imply that there was just a simple code. They must have updated security with the renovation. I can't get remote access to the systems in which the code is generated."_

"Zayn, we haven't got time for this." Harry turned his gun back on Cindy. "Where's the fucking, pager?"

"I don't know." She sobbed it out. Her shoulders shook so hard, they threatened to separate from the rest of her. "I think I dropped it on the staircase."

"Well shit, isn't that just fucking great!" The man kicked at one of the garbage cans, making Cindy Lou only sob harder.

_"I'll have to do a brute force attack on the systems, but they'll know of the breach. We won't have much time before—"_

"It's fine." Louis cut in, anxiety beginning to override the adrenaline. "Just do it." He dug gloved fingertips into his palm as his head swam. Get grounded, Tomlinson. He told himself. Fucking Murphy's Law. Everything that can go wrong will go wrong. He paced, hoping it would push his nervous energy out.

"Z, how's it coming?" Harry asked over Cindy's cries and murmurs. She was on a broken loop of "Mommy's sorry, honey. Mommy is so sorry, baby."

 _"I've almost got it. The code itself is encrypted, I'm this close to deciphering it._ "

"Well get fucking closer!" Harry barked.

"Cindy." Louis breathed it barely above a whisper. He crouched in front of her, letting his gun clatter to the ground beside him. "How old is your daughter?"

She tilted get her head through her tears, almost afraid to answer. "She just turned six last week."

"That's lovely. I promise you'll go home to her, alright?"

 _"I've got it. It's 94AT720."_ Louis dashed to the vault door, the code etching itself into his memory. He punched in the letters and numbers with anxiety ridden fingers. They all waited, even Cindy's sobs had fallen to short quiet spurts of breath.

When the locks clicked the whole of the room visibly lightened. Harry with his gun still on Cindy breezed over to the door too. Together they turned the steel spindle and yanked at the door. The thing was heavy as expected, but they managed.

They were presented with yet another gate, but behind those bars were walls was lined with security deposits boxes, and money. Lots of it.

"There has to be millions in there." The boy mumbled.

"11.5." Cindy hiccuped between quiet sobs. "There's 11.5 million in there. Steer clear of the money set out front. It's put there for situations like this one. There are ink bombs hidden in the bundles, they off as soon as the money is touched."

_"Lads, we haven't got much time. They know we breached the system. The cops could be alerted at any time. I'm gonna do DoS attack on all of Blue Star's servers, and that'll knock them out, but it's only temporary. That's your window. Get the money, and get the hell out of there."_

They moved in synch, Louis and Harry did after they got the gate open. Stuffing bundles upon bundles into their bags.

"The garbage cans." Louis rambled, stumbling over a wad of bills. Let's fill them with as much as we can."

The older man broke into a wide grin. "Genius." They filled each can they toted to the brim with cash.

"Boys!" Jamie's voice broke through the earpieces. "One of the workers had a phone. He tried to call the cops, an—and I shot him! We have to get out of here!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jamie! Is he dead?" Louis asked, stuffing the last bit of money he could fit into the garbage cans.

"No, I went for the stomach. But he got through to the cops, we gotta fucking go."

"Alright. Well we've got as much as we can take." The boy explained. "Lock them in, and wait for us at the maintenance entrance. We'll be up in 15."

"Come on, pretty boy. We gotta go."

"What about her?" Louis pointed to Cindy Lou, whilst throwing a duffel over his shoulder.

"We're letting her go, yeah?"

"Well yeah, but not while we escape."

"I won't run, just go." The woman said shakily. They both looked at her with skeptical glances.

Instead of letting her go, they locked her behind the gate of the vault. Harry chucked the keys just out of her reach.

"Sorry, Cindy. Use your time wisely while you're in there. Get your daughter something nice, yeah?"

 

**STEP THREE: THE ESCAPE**

"T _here are cops in route, lads! You've gotta get out of there."_

"Well why don't you come down here, and try to tote millions of dollars up two flights of stairs, mate?" Harry grit out between clenched teeth.

 _"Did you guys really get millions?"_ Zayn asked after a moment.

"As much as we could carry." Louis chimed in. "At least 3 or 4 million."

"Fuck, dude we're fucking rich!" Jamie exclaimed.

"We're not out of the woods yet." Harry said as they made it to the landing at the top of the staircase. They two broke into a run again, pushing the garbage cans in front of them.

_"T-minus 10, mate. Let's go. The DoS will only be up for 5 more minutes and our window is gone."_

Instead of thinking of the police or anything else of that sort in that moment, Louis thought of his mother and the good the money would do for her. For all of them, really. This would change everything for them all.

"Princess, snap the fuck out of it! Come on!" Jamie was saying, and Louis thought it was in his earpiece, but he actually saw her at least five feet away at the maintenance entrance flailing her arms like a mad woman.

He ran until his legs burned, and his arms ached. Zayn was already sliding the vans' door open when they ran up.

"Holy shit." The man said with wide eyes.

"Ogle later, love." Louis grinned, the adrenaline back at full steam now. "Help us get this in." And he did. The four of them hauled three garbage cans, and too many duffels of cash into the van.

When they were all in and relatively safe, Zayn took his duty as getaway driver all too seriously, and hauled ass out of the alleyway. Louis was sure they had left skid marks in their wake.

The silence was suffocating, and Louis all but begged for someone to break it. And Jamie did. Thank God for Jamie. She tipped over one of the garbage cans before speaking. The bundles of bills rolled out in waves.

"Holy fucking shit!" She exclaimed, throwing the money up around her. "We're rich, boys! We're fucking rich!" She let out another cackle before throwing up another handful, and Louis laughed. A genuine belly laugh, that sounded foreign to his own ears. He threw up a bundle of his own.

He glanced up at Harry who was laughing too. They all had erupted into a fit of adrenaline induced giggles.

"We did it." Harry whispered to his boy. And yeah, they had. They were fucking legends.

"Hey, Zayn." Louis grinned with aching cheeks. "How about that lunch?"


	20. Chapter 20

**The** loud thwack of The Auburn Gazette against the ever growing mountain of files on Liam's desks rattled him from his thoughts. He raised a brow, frowning down at the paper over the rim his coffee mug that read **I CAN'T COP TODAY.** "What's this?"

"Read it." Sophia grit out from clenched teeth. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a tight ponytail, and her ACPD windbreaker was splayed open to reveal a cream colored sweater.

The biggest headline read: **BLUE STAR FEDERAL BANK TAKES A HIT: _THIEVES GET AWAY WITH MILLIONS._**

"Jesus Christ." He groaned, pushing the paper aside. Blue Star was one of the toughest high security banks there was in Auburn. Sure, the bank had been under construction for at least a month or two, but security was still tight. "Do you think it was them?"

Sophia propped a hip on his desk with an eye roll. "Of course it was them, I know it was. They made away with at least ten million, Li."

"It couldn't have been them." Liam said before taking a long gulp of his coffee. "They haven't got the man power or the wit, Soph." He didn't believe it even as he said it, and neither did Sophia.

She pulled a folder from where it had been tucked beneath the crook of her forearm. She sifted through the file before dropping a single photo atop the pile.

"Sweepers found it at the scene. There's no DNA, because we obviously have the shittest luck." She leaned in close, her voice dropped just below a whisper. "But between you and me, this is proof enough."

It was proof enough for Liam too. He eyed the photo of a lone black bandana, half a ghost skull printed over the fabric. He recognized it from the security tapes from the liquor store and diner robberies. Jesus. The fuckers had hit Blue Star, and gotten away with it.

"Come on, Li." Sophia sighed, pushing herself up from the desk. "Wallow in shock and self pity later, we've got a briefing in the pen. Aftermath of the Blue Star hit."

"It's no use anyways." He breathed after swallowing down the last of his coffee. "They're probably off in wind now, far far away from Auburn."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

 

≫≫≫

 

Louis never thought he would see the day when he'd set foot back in Auburn. After spending a little over a year in his own slice of heaven off the coast of Puerto Vallarta, you couldn't blame him.

Johannah was getting treatment, almost looking like her old self again. And, Harry? He brought the shops' business down to Mexico. Chop shops were a dime a dozen, but they got by. Plus they had each other, and that was all they really needed.

But there he was, stepping off of the jet he and Harry had chartered just for the journey back to their hometown.

"It's weird being back here." Louis mumbled as he took the trek down the airstairs. Harry had taken on the weight of their bags. There were two nondescript black cars waiting for them at the ramp.

"Yeah." The man said behind him. "I'm sure the general consensus for most national criminals, pretty boy."

Louis laughed lightly, the early winter breeze prick at his bare skin. "This meeting, it shouldn't take too long."

"And you're sure you don't want me to tag along?" Harry asked, handing the bags off to the driver.

"No." The boy shook his head, his clear blue cloaked by dark shades in which he was thankful for at that moment. "I've got to do it alone." And Harry respected that.

"Alright." The man nodded, pulling his boy close. He cupped Louis' flushed cheeks in large rough hands. "You call me if you need anything, promise?"

"Y-yeah, of course." He nodded. "I promise, love." Harry caught his lips in a kiss that warmed him from the inside out.

"Go." Harry smiled against the boy's brow, he pushed him away a little. "Before I decide keep you."

"You've already got me." Louis beamed, but he did go. The driver opened his door, and he threw him a low thank you. Before getting in he called out to Harry once more. "After this meeting, meet me at The Diner, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you there." The boy climbed into the town car, tucking his cold hands into the pockets of a jacket that smelled like Harry. It probably was Harry's. The man's clothes had just become their clothes.

"Where to, sir?" The driver asked.

"Rothswell and Company. I've got a few loose ends to tie up."

The driver had taken all the main streets, instead of the back roads Louis was so familiar with. He thought about Cecilia. Niall too. Even Mateo. All the people he'd left behind in that city.

He hoped they were all well. Reaching out to any of them would be too risky as he had left them each a piece of what they'd had made away with at Blue Star. Enough for Cecilia to pay for school. Enough for Niall to do whatever Niall did. And enough for Mateo's mom to not work so much.

He smiled at the thought when they pulled in front of his father's building.

"I'll back right back."

An eerie sense of déjà vu washed over Louis when he walked into the firm. It bustled and buzzed with people as it always did. He and his father were supposed to meet at one of the many cafés that littered the ground floor of Rothswell.

He ducked off into the little coffee shop called Java with his large framed shades still sat promptly over his eyes. His father wasn't hard too find. He looked out of place amongst the people and the shop as a whole.

He took a seat at the table that was pushed near the rear of the shop. He father sipped at a mug of what looked like black coffee, and pushed a cup of some kind of creamy concoction towards the boy. He'd pass on it.

"Hello, son. Always a pleasure." The man said into his cup.

"No, it isn't. What do you want, Mark?" Louis asked with a eye roll his father couldn't see.

Mark flashed a calculating smile. Always thinking a step ahead, Louis saw where he got it from. "Can't a man simply miss his son?"

Louis leaned in a little with a smile of his own. "Listen, you manipulative piece of shit. I know you didn't call me down here for some fucking jovial family reunion and sentimental pleasantries over coffee. What do you want?"

"I see so much of me in you, you know?" The man fiddled with his mug then, giving restless hands something to do. "I just want to know how you did it, Louis."

The boy sat back against his chair with a grin that eased into a laugh. "I've got no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, but you do." The man breathed, raising a hand for a waitress. "You're a smart boy, Louis. And I'm not stupid. The attack on Blue Star? It's funny, because one of my employees was apart of the heist. Held some people up, I reckon."

"Well." Louis said with a shrug. "That's not really a surprise, is it? You're a dick, Mark. I'd expect some of your employees to turn on you."

"That isn't the surprising part, Lou. The employee? One of the workers remembered her name, Emily Pelonis. Something stuck with me about that name. Not because she worked for me. There isn't an employee on my payroll by that name. That person doesn't even exist."

"Where are you going with this, Mark?"

The man shrugged, sitting back against his chair. "I don't know. Maybe it's just the way my brain is wired, but the name ate at me. You know what I mean, don't you? You're wired the same way. Emily Pelonis is an anagram for Millie Nopsey. My wife."

Louis smiled down at his nails, thinking back on when he snuck into his father's office. When he saw all the pictures of his father's trophy-winning kids and white picket fence wife. Poor poor Millie.

"I have to hand it to you." Mark continued. "Having whoever you did look like her. The dark hair, the green eyes. Almost looked like her twin. You did good, son. Millie didn't even have an alibi, but you probably already knew that."

"Sounds like the picket fence wife was tired of your shit, Mark."

"You and I both know this was all you, my boy." Mark snapped leaning in now too. "Just tell me how you did it. And why my firm? My project, my wife."

Louis picked up that same creamy concoction that sat in front of him. He took a small sniff, and smiled before tipping onto Mark's shirt. The man stumbled back with a gasp, drawing the attention of strangers around them.

The boy reached across the table, pulling at the man's shirt to reveal a wire. It crackled and sputtered due the damage the coffee caused.

"I'm not stupid either." He stood with another smile. "It was good to see you, Mark. Always a pleasure. Tell Millie I said hello, will you? Whenever she gets out, I mean."

He ignored Mark's screams and protests of "You're going down for this, boy!"  
and "You'll never get away with this!" because, well, he had gotten away with it, and he would do it again in a heartbeat.

He glanced down at the gold watch that he managed to snatch while Mark was having his conniption. He slipped it over his own dainty wrist, and smiled.  
Once a thief, always a thief.

 

≫≫≫

 

The Diner smelled just as good as it did when Louis stepped in the first time all those mornings ago. He sighed, a happily nostalgic sigh. He spotted his stud in the booth he was pretty sure they'd sat in the first time they met. Of course, the man would sit there.

Before he could make it over there though, someone had knocked him off his stride with a bump. The person was solid, hard. The boy was surprised he wasn't knocked to the floor. The face didn't match though. The guy, with his wide apologetic brown eyes, and hands up in surrender threw Louis off.

"Sorry, mate." The guy said softly. "I didn't see you there.

"It's alright." Louis shrugged. "No harm, no foul.

"Do I know you?" The guy squinted, scanning Louis. He looked for some shred of recognition.

"No, I don't think so." The boy backed away a bit then. "Just watch where you're going, yeah?" He turned on his heels, and marched over to Harry who sat with a coffee of his own, and a plate of waffles for Louis. The tension eased off his shoulders when he smiled up at the boy like he was the stars, the moon, and the sun all wrapped into one.

"You got me waffles."

The man nodded as his boy sat across from him, his cheeks still prettily flushed from the cold. "I did, of the Belgian variety."

"Mmm." The boy breathed as he dug in. "I swear, I knew keeping you around was a good idea."

"I don't know if I should be insulted or not." Harry laughed, and so did Louis. He was so full of love, he kinda felt like his heart would burst.

And at times like this, he didn't believe in Murphy's Law. Murphy never had a Harry.

"I love you, stud." The boy declared, like it was just this fact that everyone should've known.

And Harry leaned across the table to steal another kiss. "I love you, baby." He muttered against the boy's lips. "Hey." He whispered when they broke apart. He dug an old balaclava from his pocket of his jacket, and grinned. "For old times' sake, pretty boy?"

And despite himself, Louis grinned too. He fingered at the glistening nine millimeter that sat snug in the waistband of his jeans. "Yeah, Stud. For old times' sake."

**Fin.**


End file.
